


Return to Wonderland

by MissWhip



Category: 2010 - Fandom, Alice in Wonderland - Fandom
Genre: Drama, F/M, Gen, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-08-06
Updated: 2010-08-06
Packaged: 2017-10-10 23:27:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 17
Words: 47,726
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/105595
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MissWhip/pseuds/MissWhip
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Return to Wonderland</p>
    </blockquote>





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> Return to Wonderland

Return to Wonderland

Author: Drakelah

Rating: T-M: For Violence, Sexuality

Summary: Alice has a daughter, from where, she doesn't quite know, but it seems that a return to Wonderland is clearly in the cards.

* * *

Prologue:

It had been a trying experience for Alice, indeed it was a trying experience for all women who had to go through it. But as she held the tiny creature, she wondered if it was more mentally exhausting in her predicament. Certainly, no other woman had to wonder exactly where the baby in their arms had come from.

The infant looked up at her with a quizzical gaze. The look did not so much say, "Who are you?" but instead seemed to say, "You appear to be my mother yet you are not mothering me. If you are my mother, please commence with tradition or else give me to another mother."

So, with aching arms, she lifted the babe to her cheek, still flush red with her efforts, and nuzzled. The infant seemed to coo her recognition of the appropriateness of this action.

"Miss Kingsley?" Asked one of the British nurses.

"Yes?"

"Are you still feeling well?"

"I feel very curious." There was a far-away look in her eyes.

"You're not well then?"

"Physically, I'm fine, but I'm afraid my mind is in tangles."

"How so, ma'am?"

"Isn't it obvious? My daughter has no father and I simply do not understand why."

"Has the father run off then?" The nurse was nearly conspiratorial in her tone.

"No, he just simply isn't," she paused, "He isn't!"

"He isn't?"

"No, he's not here or anywhere else!"

The nurse shook her head, wondering if she was experiencing some sort of post-delivery hysteria.

"Well, what would you like to name the baby?"

Alice looked down at her infant daughter and the look in the baby's eyes, "It's the strangest thing that I should have to think of something to call her just for now."

"Why just for now?"

"She hasn't told me her name yet."


	2. 1: A Heavy Bit of Light Correspondence

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Part 1: A Heavy Bit of Light Correspondence

Part 1: A Heavy Bit of Light Correspondence

* * *

To My Darling Alice,

I am glad to hear that you are well, but I must admit my dear, I am a bit vexed to hear of this news you bring me.

How is it that you have a child? When you left my care here in London, I was not aware that you were expecting any children, and being that you are not married, it ought not to be so!

I don't mean to presume to guess the father of this child, but since you will not tell me, my mind has taken to wandering on its own. Your father was not the only one with a wild imagination.

So far, I've managed to keep this information within the family so as to avoid any public discontent about us. Margaret is the only person who has shared in this bit of news, and while she is delighted that you have bestowed her name upon your daughter, she is also a touch disappointed in this lapse in your judgment. Common as though these lapses have been in recent years.

It is my greatest wish that you return home at the earliest possible moment, so that we can bring your daughter into proper society and give her all the privileges that you had as a child. Surely, you do not intend to raise her by yourself while you attempt to set up trading posts in China? The other alternative is to bring her home to me, and I can bring her up under my care as my ward.

Please respond promptly,

Your Mother,

Helen Kingsley

* * *

My Dear Mother,

You ought to cease your wonderings as to the father of my little Margaret; she does not appear concerned with it herself. Indeed, I know not the gentleman myself, she simply is, and that is well enough alone for me.

I do wish for her to be raised at my side here in China, never fear mother, for I have maids and nurses to spare that can help me while I work with the company. Margaret is in the same care as Margaret was, is that not delightful?

What I will promise you is this, as soon as the company is officially stabilized in a few years, I will return to England to visit you and my dear sister and allow you a proper introduction to my daughter.

Until then, please consider us all well, in the best of health and in the best sanity possible.

Your un-obedient daughter,

Alice

Your loving, but not yet talkative,

Granddaughter Margaret

* * *

Alice handed off the letter to the courier in the shipyard station. She pushed the bassinet containing her nearly year old daughter along the street. The roads were bumpy and this was not well appreciated by little Margaret. Although she did not cry, she seemed to pout and roll her eyes every time her mother missed an even stretch of road.

"Margaret, would you like to travel to London anytime soon?"

She was fairly certain the child shook her head.

"I'm quite glad you let me call you Margaret, my sister is happy that you and her are sharing the same name. You will be certain to tell me your name when you decide to talk?"

Again, a perceived nod of the head that couldn't quite be confirmed by the naked eye.

Alice stopped at a railing area that overlooked the vast ocean. She lifted the child into her arms, "You know, I sincerely hope that you've gotten some of my "muchness," I would not mind going on an adventure or two when you've grown up a bit."

* * *

**Author's Note**: Thank you to all those who have read and reviewed so far! And all those who have alerted the story and made it a favorite already, thank you! I apologize for the relatively short scenes so far, but I actually dreamed the prologue, so I'm working out from it right now, but I think I've got a better handle on where it's going. Not to mention trying to imitate Mr. Carroll and Mr. Burton's styles is a task unto itself!


	3. 2: What Miss Margaret Does Not Like

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Part 2: What Miss Margaret Does Not Like

Part 2: What Miss Margaret Does Not Like

Author's Note: The first two parts were a touch slow, so a good speed up seemed in order. I would like to thank everyone for the reviews, I love them, please continue to keep reviewing because it keeps me writing!

* * *

Un-obedient though she was, Alice did fully intend to keep her word to her mother about the impending return to England. She also intended for the setup of the trading posts in China to take years. And so they did.

Little Margaret, as she was still so called, was now seven years of age. While Alice had pressed her many times on what her name actually was, the girl would simply stare at her, "I'm afraid I've forgotten it, mother."

The mother would often amuse herself with thoughts that her daughter was precocious for this world. In the Underland, she would probably be a bit more normal.

She would always catch herself when she referred to it as the Underland. '_Wonderland_,' she thought, '_I must remember to call it Wonderland_.'

Alice stood at the main window of her house, gazing out at the glittering sea and the little girl outlined against the rising sunlight. Her hands flitted over the various items she was packing for the trip to England, which had inevitably arrived and cause much distress in the household.

Margaret was sitting on the edge of the patio deck that had been made for her. Her little feet, swinging, without stockings or even shoes. Always an astute child, she peeked back over her shoulder and caught sight of her mother in the window. She got to her feet, dusted off the pale blue silk dress she wore, and picked up the jumping rope that a nursemaid had given her. Lazily, she began to skip the rope up and down the patio deck.

The mother's eyes grew upset for a moment; she must now also remember to scold the nurses later for trying to convince her child to act more as a young girl should. Alice had no intent of letting her precious daughter turn into what was considered an appropriate young woman. A touch more disconcerting was the notion that Margaret had entertained their suggestion. Perhaps she had been bored.

She reached over into a cabinet without looking first and brought the item to the table top so that it could be wrapped and packed for the journey. When she felt the cold china in her hands, she put it down and walked away.

The maids would have to pack the tea sets; she did not trust her hands to stay still enough to do the job properly.

* * *

"We don't have to go." Murmured the little girl, sitting on top of a large locked trunk.

"I'm afraid that we do, my dear, I promised my mother."

"Nothing will make us board the ship." She was right, after all.

"It is only a short visit, a few weeks and we'll again be on the open sea."

"Why must we go? We will only be coming back."

Alice knelt down in front of her pouting daughter. Margaret looked at her, the blond curls she'd inherited falling so delicately around her face. The daughter was a perfect copy of the mother in every way with the same large doe eyes and the pale skin to offset them.

"You are not happy anywhere?"

"I am not."

"Why, my dear?" Alice put a hand to her daughter's cheek.

The little girl looked up at her with sadness, "I do not know for sure. The people are like shadows, except you mother, they look like shadows to me."

Where most parents would have been perturbed at such a declaration, Alice leaned in closer, "Do they look like shadows, or simply act like them?"

"Both, I'm afraid," She put her hand upon her mother's, "It frightens me sometimes."

Pulling her daughter to her, Alice clasped her child in a secure embrace, "They frighten me too."

"Why are we so different?"

"It is better to be different, even if we have to see the shadows."

Margaret jumped off the trunk and ran to the railing where the land met the sea, "Can we not sail forever?"

Alice joined her daughter at the overlook, "Your grandfather used to say that he could believe six impossible things before breakfast. Surely, the possibility of sailing forever would be appropriate."

The two smiled at each other before Alice sighed, "Will you indulge me please? Before we set sail for worlds unknown, and concede to a visit with your grandmother? Even if she does not please your unique sensibilities, your lovely Aunt Margaret will."

"I will, mother."

* * *

Due to the precious nature of the cargo, the ship sailed closer to shore instead taking a direct route across the vast ocean to the tip of Africa. It was a gamble that extended the trip and exposed those onboard to the other dangers of travel that were less easily found on the open waters.

Little Margaret was susceptible to one of the dangers of travel, and it took its hold on her early.

Alice kept watch over her daughter, who seemed to grow even tinier as she suffered under a strange illness. The sailors who saw the girl put forth many theories, but none seemed entirely accurate. Margaret bore the trouble well, but it had a different effect on her mother.

Rumors started among the crew that a despondent and weary Miss Kingsley had been wandering the deck at night, asking the stars if they had a bit of cake for her daughter. One man who had claimed to witness the event, mentioned that she had requested the help of a white rabbit to make the child well again.

Ill though she was, Margaret was not standing at death's door, and so she would get up and walk whenever the mood struck her and her mother was out of the room.

* * *

For a month, things continued this way, until the second terror of the high seas came upon them.

As Alice paced the decks one night, she saw it coming in the distance.

"Captain!" She sounded the alarm. The night watcher in the crow's nest, who had been dozing at his post, woke startled and rang the bell.

The captain barged onto the deck, his night clothes a-mess, his entire being in a state of unease, "Watcher?"

"There's another ship sir! They're flying the unfriendly colors!"

"Oh God." Whispered Alice, "Pirates?"

"Bring the men to their battlestations! Ready the cannons!" The captain shouted orders and he ran up to Alice, "My lady, we must secure you and your daughter below deck." He fairly pushed her back into the depths of the ships through the passenger door.

Unfortunately for Alice, the doorway to lower quarters was not immediately followed by flat ground. The laws of physics being still so firmly in place, Alice tumbled down the stairs and struck her head upon the floor. What little light there was left for her to see went out and she slipped into unconsciousness.

As the ship surged back to life in preparation for the impending attack, Margaret could not reasonably be expected to stay asleep for long. Ill, tired, and thoroughly put out by the noise, she left her bed and walked into the hallway in her little night robe.

"Mother!" She ran to the still figure in the hall, but her mother did not move. Margaret shook her shoulders with vigor, but still there was no response.

Hearing the noise upon the deck, she stood and walked carefully up the stairs. In the panic, she was relatively unnoticed, and she kept to the sides, creeping as close to the ground as she could. Lifting her head ever so slightly, she peeked over the railing to see the approaching ship that carried what must surely be vicious attackers.

"Goodness." She spoke aloud, her eyes wide.

"Miss, you shouldn't be here! It's safer below deck." A young boy, perhaps a cabin boy, fell down next to her.

"Why should I not be here?"

"Those are pirates, Miss! Below decks is safer!"

"My mother is below decks and she is currently not moving nor responding to me. How much safer could I be?" She looked over the railing again, "What do they want?"

"They want the goods on board, and they'll kill us all to get them."

"That is quite unnecessary and rather rude. They need to go away and leave us alone."

He laughed, "Try telling them that, Miss."

So, being that it was a good suggestion and she agreed completely, she did, "Leave us alone!" It was quite loud, nearly at the top of her lungs and a good deal of the sound was lost in the hubbub of the ship.

However, she did not need anyone to hear her except those that did.

The more experienced sailors on board began to feel the wind pick up.

The cabin boy looked at her and a puzzled expression found its way onto his face, "Are you okay? Your eyes look… very dark."

She turned to him, "I'm fine!"

The wind began to howl with the ferocity of a jabberwocky, though Margaret would never know what that was. Indeed, there was a tempest brewing that could not be contained within a teapot.

Rain drops fell that were big enough to make one think they were shrinking, and the lightning cracked across the night sky. With every flash of light the cabin boy dived deeper into fear as he observed the girl standing next to him. Not only had her eyes grown darker, but the darkness was spreading around her eyes.

* * *

In the stairwell, Alice stirred. She lifted her head slowly from the ground, completely confused about her situation. There was noise above deck, and the ship jolted.

"Margaret." She wondered aloud, "Margaret!" Jumping to her feet, she held her head in her hands and fought her way back up the stairs. It was not an easy thing to be done, as the sea waves were conspiring against her efforts.

At the top deck, she was met with an unwelcome surprise, "Darling!"

Margaret was perched upon the railing now, and Alice feared that she did not know this girl who looked at her. Those eyes, those angry and fearful eyes had never belonged to her child.

"Oh my dear, is that you?"

The daughter did not have time to ask as the storm conjured a wave that sent the pirate ship onto its side, "Look mother! I got rid of the pirates!"

So overjoyed was the child that she did not see the residual waves of a storm still ongoing. When it struck, she toppled over the edge of the ship into the raging waters.

Alice shrieked and without a thought for herself, she dived over the edge to retrieve her child. She had no other plan, indeed not a stray idea as to how to accomplish her task; all she knew was, she had to save her dear Margaret.

* * *

The frigid cold of the water struck Margaret and returned her senses, but it appeared the water had no notion of returning her to her mother. Something wrapped itself around her ankles and pulled her down into the blackness of the deep ocean sea.

Alice gasped as she witnessed her child being pulled underneath the waves. She dived down after her, her arms pulling at the giving water. Her head was still throbbing from the fall, and combined with the loss of air, she was not doing well. As she extended an arm to take another dive, something grabbed onto it and began to pull her forward.

"_Oh thank goodness_," Alice thought, she was entirely tired of swimming.


	4. 3: A Road Diverged

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Part 3: A Road Diverged

Part 3: A Road Diverged

Author's Note: Would like to thank everyone for the reviews once again! Those that have contacted me outside of the review board are thanked as well! Please leave reviews for me, I like to know if I'm on track with this whole thing!

* * *

"It's Alice! She's come back!"

This was a new and peculiar voice.

"It is not Alice, she already came back."

This one was a bit more morose than the other, but still new.

Margaret had no recollection of when she had fallen asleep. There had been the falling, of course, the water, and something pulling at her feet without her express permission, but the sleeping was still such a mystery.

"Where am I?" She wondered aloud.

"You, my dear, are on the beaches of Underland."

"What is Underland?"

"Underland's where you are!" There was that first voice again. Margaret felt a very hot breath on her face and she opened her eyes.

"Goodness! What are you?"

The beaked face laughed, "I'm Gryphon, that's what I am."

This curious creature, who called himself Gryphon, was sitting not more than half a meter from her, staring down at her face with rapt concentration.

"You see? I told you she wasn't Alice, she doesn't even remember us."

Turning her head, she caught sight of a large turtle, or what was supposed to have been a turtle, "Who are you?"

"I'm the Mock Turtle. Delighted to make your acquaintance." His droll voice and drooping eyes did not mirror his formality.

"You're not a real turtle then?"

"I am a turtle, young lady; I am just a Mock Turtle."

"You can be two things at once, how peculiar."

"Are you a human?"

"Yes."

"And are you also a girl?"

"Yes."

"Then you are also boring me."

"Well, at least I can be three things at once sir, instead of just two."

"Quite so, my dear." The Mock Turtle sighed and rolled his head.

The Gryphon hopped from clawed foot to clawed foot, "Not-Alice, what is your name?"

"My name is Margaret Kingsley. Alice is my mother."

"That explains a great deal, young Margaret Kingsley."

"Miss Not-Alice, why have you come to Underland?"

"I did not come here on purpose; I fell into the ocean and woke up here."

"A fine excuse, my dear." The Mock Turtle was a surly and unpleasant character; Margaret was not fond of him. What a pair he and the Gryphon must be!

"I bet she's come to hear a poem! Mock Turtle; recite a poem for Miss Not-Alice!"

"I will do no such thing."

"Please?" Begged Gryphon, his lion's body practically trembling with anticipation. His wings fluttered and talons stretched out in the sand. Margaret was reminded of a dog that wanted its master to throw a stick to fetch.

"Gryphon, please leave the subject alone."

"Do it! Recite the poem! Don't you want to hear the poem?"

Margaret shook her head, she merely wanted to walk away from all this. After she found her mother, she could further explore this nonsensicality.

"You see there? This Not-Alice does not want to hear a poem."

"But I do! Please?"

Getting to her feet, she kicked the sand from her shoes, "You have both been very lovely, but I'm afraid I must be going. I have to find my mother."

Neither of them really seemed to hear her. They continued to bicker upon the beach while the little one they called, "Not-Alice," walked from the shore towards the nearby woods.

* * *

If Underland had doors, and indeed there must be several of them besides random rabbit holes, Alice found that she could enter from any and find herself in the same place.

Here she was in the garden that lay next to the forest, "Again?"

"Margaret!" She called into the surrounding area, "Margaret!" No reply came back to her. "Hello? Is anybody there?"

Still nothing. Underland was as silent as could be for such a place. The flowers were neither talking nor singing, and not a horse, nor dragon, nor housefly, could be found buzzing in the air.

"Something's not quite right." She murmured to herself.

Picking up her spirits like they were discarded rose petals, she walked down the familiar path into the forest. With the Jabberwocky destroyed and the Red Queen safely away in banishment, she was not too afraid for her daughter. Margaret had to be here if she was here, and Alice only hoped that she, or perhaps Chessur, found her before anyone else. Preferably the cat, as he could probably explain this place to her better than Alice could herself.

* * *

Margaret approached the edge of the forest with a small amount of trepidation but a tremendous amount of curiosity. She had never seen a place that grew so wild as this one. The trees that stretched to the heavens and the flowers that she seemed to see faces on them. With her tiny fingers, she reached out to touch one.

There was a growling noise and the vicious little blue bud opened and snapped at her. Margaret pulled her hand back and gasped. This sudden bite alerted quite a few other flowers, and it started a cacophony of snaps, nips, and clips. Without thinking about it, she took off into the dense forest at a run.

Someone started laughing almost the minute she began to run, and wanting to see what was so interesting, she halted only a little bit into the woods.

"What's the matter, child? You've never seen snapdragons before?"

"Not ones that actually snapped at me!"

The laughter rang out again, "Why don't you come inside for a minute, you look terrified."

Margaret turned around and saw the speaker, a young woman of less than thirty years perhaps. She was a tall and stately brunette in a green dress and petticoat.

"What is your name, madame?"

"I'm Firia, proprietor of this fine shop."

Just beyond the woman was a smallish store inside the woods.

"My name is Margaret Kingsley," She offered her hand to other woman who shook it gently, "May I ask you a question?"

"Anything."

"Why is your store inside the woods? Would you not get more business outside of the trees?"

"That's quite simple my dear, I like the shade that the trees give me!"

Margaret looked upward at the store, "Firia's Formulas of Perspective?"

"Come inside, I'll show you the shop."

The interior was like an apothecary shoppe. Covered in bottles of all shapes, colors and sizes, including some that Margaret had never before seen. Though it was possible she wouldn't known them had she seen them.

"How does one sell perspective?"

Firia tilted her head, "You don't know?"

"I haven't the slightest idea."

"Where are you from?"

"Someplace else, I suppose."

"Well, Margaret, let me demonstrate my wares, if I may." Firia pulled a bottle from the shelf behind her with a grand flourish. The cork popped lightly as she plucked it from the gleaming green glass bottle. Dipping her little finger in the mixture, Firia place a small amount of the inside liquid from her fingertip to her tongue.

Firia shook her head suddenly and her eyes grew angry, "You there! Little girl! How did you get in my home?"

"But this is your shop?"

"My shop? Have you been out playing on my front lawn?"

"No, I haven't! I swear I haven't!"

With another quick shake of the head, Firia's eyes drained of emotion and returned to their original form.

"What was that Firia? It frightened me!"

"That," She returned the bottle, "Was the perspective of an elderly person. They always seem to be obsessed with the idea of young people running around on grass. Don't quite understand that one myself."

"This is what you sell?"

"Yes, my dear. I have the perspectives of everyone in Underland in here, including some of those who are no longer in Underland. Of course, I also keep generics. General old people, general young people, the generally mad and the generally sad. I'm low on generally glad people at the moment though."

"I'm afraid I don't have any need for perspectives at the moment."

The shop owner leaned on the counter and looked at her closer, "I don't suppose you would. You seem to have enough of your own perspective really."

"I guess I do."

The older woman picked up a white jar on the counter and opened it. She picked up the powder inside in a two finger pinch and pressed it to her lips, "You're from the Otherland, aren't you?"

"I think I must be."

"Who are you really?"

"I already told you, my name is Margaret Kingsley. My mother is Alice Kingsley, have you seen her?"

"No, I never met your mother the first two times she was here. I've heard of her though. Alice, Champion of the White Queen, Slayer of the Jabberwocky, and – " Firia stopped, "Perhaps it's best to leave well enough alone, my dear."

"My mother was a Champion and a Slayer?"

"She still is, those titles are permanent, you know." Running her tongue over her lips, she brought the powder into her mouth, "But you're not Alice's daughter."

"I am so! I know exactly who I am."

"No you do not!" That exclamation and a single glance at the woman's eyes told Margaret that Firia was indeed under the influence of another perspective potion.

"What is in that jar?"

"This jar? This jar, is Perspect-All. Good for restoring things to their true perspective, revealing truths, and if I do say so myself, it gets the floor very clean after a long day."

"You are eating the floor polish?"

"That's a purpose, not the intention." Firia leaned in, "Kind of like you." There was a mad giggle from her white powdered lips, "You're very strange looking, you know!"

A Mock Turtle of mismatched parts and a dizzy Gryphon were just about enough of the madness she could take for one day. Especially when it did not serve any of her interests.

"Enough of this! Do you know where my mother is, yes or no?"

"I told you, I do not. The White Queen might know, or the Cat, they know everything." Firia suddenly put a light slap to her own cheek and she began to climb back down the ladder into her own head again, "Either way, they'll have something to fix those eyes of yours."

"What?" Margaret would not receive an answer to this though. The door to the shop opened again.

"Miss Firia?"

Blinking twice, Firia peered around Margaret to see who was calling her, "Oh hello Son!"

"Your son?"

"No, he's not my son, but he's the son."

"Of whom?"

This boy, heretofore known as, The Son, was only a little older than Margaret, "My mother is the Duchess. She didn't really take the time to name me; I suppose when I get older, she'll call me the Duke."

"Oh, well, my name is Margaret." She offered her hand, but he only stared at her like she was quite mad.

"What can I help you with today, Son?"

"Mother is looking to get the perspective of someone content, preferably one who lives on a beach somewhere and has no real responsibilities."

"Royalty or no?"

"She would say royalty, but I think she needs someone who is not."

"Good choice, royalty always has things lurking in the backs of their heads." She flitted away to look for the particular vial that he requested.

While her back was turned, Margaret watched as he slipped behind the counter and plucked something that she could not see.

"What is that?"

"Shhh!" He shushed her expertly. She looked at him with her mouth slightly open in disbelief.

Firia walked back to the counter, and handed a small bottle to the Son. He gave her a few coins in exchange, "Now tell your mother to be careful. Small doses."

"I'll tell her!" He turned to leave and then stopped, "Miss Margaret, would you like to come home with me for dinner?"

Margaret glanced over at Firia, but the older woman had naught to say on the matter. If nothing else, she wanted to question him as to what he had taken from the shop keeper, so she followed him out of the store.

"Who do you think you are? Telling me to be quiet? I will have you know that this behavior is not acceptable."

"This is not your concern."

"What did you steal from her?"

"Just a small bottle of Perspect-All. It's quite expensive, and my mother cannot afford it."

"I thought you said your mother was a duchess. Isn't she wealthy?"

"No." He began to walk down the path and called over his shoulder, "Are you coming, Miss Margaret? Dinner will be served in an hour."

The prospect of food was certainly appealing, and the adventurous spirit of Margaret came out. Certainly, she would be no worse off traveling with him as opposed to wandering around herself until some other mad person found her.

* * *

No one had yet found Alice. Throughout her walk in the wood, she had been hoping for the Cheshire Cat, the Dormouse, even the Bandersnatch to find her.

Oh where was Bayard and his bloodhound's nose?

After only a short jaunt, she realized that she knew exactly where she was going. There was only one friendly face she wanted to see as much as her daughter's right now. She forged ahead through brush and bushes, some with vicious and catching thorns. Every now and again she called out her daughter's name but the effort was fruitless.

Finally in the distance, she caught the outline of a windmill. Her steps picked up and she found herself at a near full run down the last hill.

But there was no teaparty waiting for her there.

Indeed, everything was quite abandoned. The teapots were cracked and dirty and the dishes were more askew than usual. There was something else, a deafening silence that held a cruel grasp over this area.

Alice walked down to the head of the table and collapsed into the chair that very often belonged to the Hatter.

There was a desperation that she could feel beginning to creep into her mind. If she could not even locate her dearest old friends, how in all of Underland, could she hope to find her own daughter?


	5. 4: Decidedly Dangerous

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Part 4: Decidedly Dangerous

Part 4: Decidedly Dangerous

Author's Note: The responses have been overwhelming! I'm now writing under pressure to earn the lovely reviews you've all given me! Thank you so much! Please continue to review the story and tell me if I'm on the right track and all!

Sorry it's late, I had to rewrite a certain someone about five times and pay to see the movie again to get a better handle on mannerisms. Here's hoping it paid off!

WARNING: Alice in Wonderland has a long history of volatile and angry adults being around small children, (but you already knew that) and there is one such person in this chapter. If this upsets you, I apologize in advance, but I wanted to keep them in character.

* * *

"Nothing was ever accomplished with tears."

"Absolem?" Alice lifted her head at the voice, but there was no butterfly, not even a puff of smoke.

Perhaps her mind was playing tricks on her, but more likely, it was playing truths. There was a shortage of good advice in this peculiar world, and she would not ignore the best one that the caterpillar had given her. Pushing herself up from the table, she replaced the Mad Hatter's chair in its proper place and took a last look at the table.

She had seen it when it was new, with brilliantly white cloth, and when it had fallen into some disrepair, with tea stains and tears. Here she left it again, barely what it was, abandoned and despondent. There was a small amount of heart to be taken when she noticed some items were missing. The teapot she had been held in to thwart the Knave, a few random cups that may still have had bottoms, and not a pocket watch was to be found.

The walk to Marmoreal was an arduous one to be sure, but she hoped that the trading of a ride upon a kindly creature for her normal size would help.

"I am going to find you Margaret, no matter what happens!"

* * *

Margaret trotted alongside of her new traveling companion. He was not much for conversation at the moment, but she was not a great converser in her own estimation.

"Is your mother very personable?"

"She is a person, if that's what you mean."

"Is she kind?"

"I will not know if she will be kind to you until she actually meets you."

"How is she with you then?"

They came over a small hill and Margaret noticed a modest accommodation not too far away. He stopped and turned to her, "You will never see my mother like I do, so please, don't press me on this any further."

Sighing, Margaret began to wonder why she had followed this boy after all, even with the prospect of food.

The front door was opened for them by a manservant, and she noticed a tinge of sadness in the man's eyes as he observed the Son. Regarding herself, his eyes were noticeably blank, as if they had simply fallen right out of his head.

"Mother?" The Son called out.

"Boy? Is that you? Where on earth have you been!" The voice was grating and vicious.

Margaret really began to regret her decision when the manservant suddenly shut the door behind her and locked it.

Her mother had warned her about leaving with strange persons, but she had not known what her mother's opinion would have been of a place where all persons were strange!

"You best have brought those potions back with you!"

"I did, mother."

A tromping noise of footsteps came from around the corner, and for the first time since arriving she actually felt a deserved sense of fear as a monstrous woman came into view.

She was perfectly horrid, with a face that could have been the very definition of hideous itself. Her nose was bulbous and stuck out from her face like a spike, her eyes were a dingy brown color and her lips smacked together in a thoroughly disgusting manner. It would seem she had not attended to her appearance for many years, as her skin was greasy and her hair looked matted with oils that no one had ever tried to wash.

Margaret had to remember to hold her tongue, lest she cry out in shock or make an unfortunate and irretrievable comment. The vile nature that so was so exuded from her very presence was enough to make the young girl want to keep whatever good intentions this woman may have, on the surface.

This was the Duchess, and she marched right up to her son, "Give them to me!" There were no requests, only demands issued.

He quickly retrieved the two bottles from his pocket and handed them to her. She lifted them up to get a better look at them.

"Relaxation and the Red Queen." She read them aloud and grinned, revealing a row of blackened or yellowed teeth.

"Red Queen? But you told me it was Perspect-All!" Protested Margaret, "Who is the Red Queen?"

"The Red Queen?" The Duchess leaned in menacingly, "How is it that you don't know of the Red Queen?"

Margaret stammered a bit, "Well, I am awfully young."

"Yes you are, you miserable little child, but every little wretch knows the story of the Red Queen. Even the flowers tell that story to their seedlings, to make them behave. Go to bed on time, or Iracebeth will come and get you. Eat all your food, or Iracebeth will chop off your head!" She emphasized her last point by cutting the air with her hand close to Margaret's pretty little neck.

"I do not – "

"Where are you from, little girl? Crims? Witzend?" She gave a low laugh, "Or perhaps, what's left of Witzend?"

Her mouth hanging open, her mind racing, she struggled to come up with an answer. Of all the questions she could have asked, why did she not think to procure any other place names?

"Dinner!" A large man suddenly appeared in the hallway, crying at the top of his very lungs, "Dinner is served, m'lady!"

The Duchess turned on her rather large heel and walked past the both of them into the kitchen.

Margaret turned to the Son, and he gazed back at her, "I believe she likes you well enough."

"How do you suppose?"

"She didn't ask for you to be served for dinner."

"What?"

He shrugged his shoulders and gestured toward the door with hand, "We'll all be eating in the kitchen."

"I don't think I would like to stay for dinner after all." Trying to get her feet to move faster, she turned and smacked straight into the manservant who still stood in the front room.

"You must join the Duchess and her son for dinner, young lady."

"I would rather not."

"It is not negotiable." He grabbed her shoulders and marched her through the door after the Son.

* * *

Mirana the White Queen gazed blankly down at the Oraculum. The picture of herself on the parchment stared right back up at her, with eyes that were just as sad.

"My dear queen, what's the matter?" There was a suddenly suave voice floating around the room.

"Chessur, I am worried about Underland, about Alice and her daughter."

"Ah yes," The disembodied grin appeared, "Her daughter."

"They are both in Underland as we speak. If the Oraculum is correct, then the daughter is in terrible danger."

"I thought she also appeared later though." Next came the eyes, wide and blue-green, as mischievous as they could be without the amplification of brows upon them.

Mirana nodded, "She does, but Alice will never forgive me if she does not arrive in one piece."

"Well, how many pieces do we need?" His full head filled in to emphasize his point.

Her eyes actually grew exasperated when she looked at him, "Normally, you can be quite amusing, but this is not the time for it."

"Why not send someone out to retrieve them then? Send the Hatter, he's been a bad mood for nearly seven years. Won't even let me try on his hat."

"Alice is already on her way to Marmoreal, and the Oraculum says that the daughter must escape by herself." She rolled the paper back together, "But if you like, you may go and retrieve the little girl when she reaches the woods.

The floating head disappeared and the voice called out, "As you wish."

* * *

Margaret found herself seated in a large wooden chair, and she was not terribly comfortable. The wood had begun to split and she worried that she might end up in a heap on the floor at any given moment.

Her eyes shifted nervously from the Duchess to the Son, both of whom were eating in relative silence. She was surprised at this, after finding out that they were having soup, she had half expected to be treated to a chorus of nasty slurping sounds.

Not wanting to appear rude, Margaret lifted a spoonful of soup to her lips and taking a deep breath, she took a sip. It was a struggle to swallow.

"How is it?" The Duchess asked, raising an eyebrow.

"It's very good," Lied the little girl, "Your cook likes to use a lot of pepper."

"I prefer it, pepper is much better than salt." The Duchess took another sip.

Margaret tried to take another sip of the soup and found she was quite convincing at faking the process of eating.

As she set the spoon down, she felt a change in the room.

"Did you think you could return to Underland and no one would be the wiser?"

"I don't know what you mean."

The Duchess slammed her spoon down on the table, "You're Alice! Don't you dare try to deny it!"

"I'm not Alice!

"I just told you not to deny it!"

"But it's not true! How can I admit to something that's not true?"

"Of course it's true!"

"Just because you say so?"

"No, because you are Alice! I remember you very well from your first visit to the Red Queen's castle. You were painting roses as I recall!"

"Painting roses?" Margaret was thoroughly confused.

"Mother, her name is Margaret, she told me so herself." The Son managed to interject into the screaming match.

"Silence! You insolent little boy! She obviously lied to you."

"I did no such thing!"

"No, I remember you quite well. You were here not seven years ago, and you destroyed Iracebeth's Jabberwocky."

Jumping up from her chair, Margaret felt like she needed to run as far away as was possible. The only door was guarded by the vacant-eyed manservant however.

"Oh dear." As she gazed around the room, trying desperately to find some means of escaping.

Suddenly, there was a peculiar happening. The Son, sneezed loudly while at the table. Almost immediately, he slapped his hands over his mouth and nose and ducked underneath the large kitchen table.

"Wretch!" Screamed the Duchess, kicking out her feet. The Son was struck pointedly and he scrambled out of her reach. He was unfortunate in that he did not get far enough away. The Duchess struck again, the flat of her hand connecting to her son's face. It was a sound that echoed in the small room.

Margaret was in utter shock, she had never seen a mother so viciously slap her own child. Indeed, she had never seen a mother commit such an act of violence.

"Leave him alone!"

"Silence girl! He sneezes to annoy me and I won't let him get away with it!"

"No one sneezes on purpose!"

As the Son retreated backwards, his little feet tripped up underneath him, and the Duchess advanced upon him.

"You are a terrible mother!" Screamed Margaret.

"How dare you!" The Duchess changed her mind quickly and advanced upon Margaret.

The Son got up and ran to the counter while his mother's back was turned to him. He grabbed several items and shoved them into his pockets.

Margaret meanwhile, discovered that she had an innate talent when it came to ducking. She managed to expertly dodge every strike and swing that came her way. It was not to last forever though, as the Duchess pressed her back against the wall and caught her by her hair. In her large hand with curled and gnarled nails, she grasped the blond curls and would not let go. Pain was not a familiar element to Margaret and it wrenched tears from her eyes.

"Grab him!" She ordered the manservant to seize her Son. He was practiced at it, picking up the boy quickly and holding him out so that the child's kicks and punches did not land on his own person.

Pulling Margaret tight against her by her hair, the Duchess sneered into her face, "Perhaps a night in the cellar will teach you some respect, Alice!"

"I'm not Alice!"

* * *

When she had been tossed, quite literally thrown, into the cellar, Margaret had hit her head and gone into unconsciousness.

Upon being placed in the cellar with her, the Son ran over to Margaret and picked her up in his arms, "Miss Margaret, wake up!" He patted her face with his hands.

She woke up slowly, looking up at him, "Where am I?"

"Mother threw us in the cellar. She probably won't come to get us until the morning." He looked over at the fading light that came in from the tiny and barred window.

"Goodness, you're a mess!" Pulling out a kerchief from her pocket, Margaret dabbed at his face. He had blood coming from his nose and tears from his eyes.

"Does she always do that to you?"

"She beats me every day."

"Why did you bring me here?"

"I don't know," He hung his head in shame, "I'm very sorry Margaret. I was selfish; I think I hoped that if you were here, she might refrain from striking me."

She sat up, her head positively throbbing and with her tiny hands, she rubbed at her aching scalp. Certainly that encounter must have caused her to lose some hair.

"Can you forgive me?"

"I suppose I can," Margaret walked over to where the window was and jumped up, trying to peer out, "But I will not be able to if she decides to serve us as dinner tomorrow. Now, how do we get out of here?"

* * *

The long winding path up to the castle gates was the hardest part. As Alice walked it though, over the serene lake and past the checker boarded lawn, she felt an immense peace wash over her being. It was as it had been the first time she had come here. The castle of the White Queen was an island of tranquility in a world where madness, no matter how delightful, reigned. Her mother, Alice wondered, would probably think the White Queen mad though, in her proper mindset.

At the gate, a guard, with the head of a chessboard knight, opened the door for her. She mentally went over her appearance as she marched down the long and silent hall to the main court room. Her dress was torn and smudged a bit with traveling mud and dust, and certainly her hair was askew and face flushed.

The hallway opened up into the shimmering brilliance of a white and diamond decorated throne room.

Rising from her throne, Mirana clasped her hands together, "Alice! How wonderful to see you again!"

"Your majesty," Alice addressed the queen, "I need your help."

"What's wrong, my dear?" Mirana feigned ignorance.

"My daughter, Margaret, she's here in Underland and I cannot find her. Can you help me?"

"Of course I can. I'll send out my personal guard immediately, dispatch them to all corners of Underland to see if they can find her. And I will send Bayard out to lead them!"

"I want to go with them."

"Alice, you are in no state to go out and search the entire night! You look positively miserable." She forced a smile on her black painted lips.

"May I ask you a question?"

"Anything."

"Is there anything else out there, anything dangerous? I know the Jabberwocky is slain, but are there any other creatures that could hurt my Margaret?"

Mirana did have to think about that question for moment, "No, the JubJub Bird is gone, and the Bandersnatch is sleeping soundly in the stables. I know no other vicious creature since my sister was removed from her throne."

Alice breathed a sigh of relief. Sensing that she needed some comfort, the White Queen walked down from her steps and embraced her champion, "Come, let's get you cleaned up and into something more suitable. You'll stay here tonight, as my guest."

As the two women walked down the hallway, Alice leaned over to her friend, "Where is everyone? The tea party was abandoned and none of the flowers would talk to me."

The queen looked puzzled, "I cannot comment on the flowers, they are such fickle things, but everyone else is here in Marmoreal. The March Hare, the Cheshire Cat, Mally – "

"The Hatter?" Perhaps there was a bit too much urgency in her voice, or maybe her eyes showed a little more interest than a simple friendship would produce, but the White Queen raised an eyebrow.

"He's here too. I've been blessed with a perpetual tea party for the last seven years or so on the lawn out back." She smiled.

"Is he alright?"

Mirana handed off Alice to two of her handmaids, "Why don't you visit with him after you've gotten refreshed? He could use some cheering up."

The White Queen fluttered away back down the hallway, her hands in the air as if she were dancing. She was perfectly pleased with herself until she remembered the circumstances surrounding Alice's daughter.

Calling for Bayard, she decided to release him that night like she promised; it made no sense to leave the daughter away from the protection of Marmoreal for any longer than was necessary.

* * *

The handmaids had returned Alice to a proper state and furnished her with a light blue silk robe that fell to her feet. She let her hair hang down; curling around her face in what she believed was her most appealing look.

Her mind was a bit more at ease about Margaret now that the White Queen was assisting in the search. It gave her a great comfort to know that her daughter was like her, and she was certain that her "muchness" was something that she had inherited.

This comfort was not all beneficial, as it allowed for a nervousness to creep into her mind over seeing her old friends once again.

With her padded silken shoes tapping on the white marble floor, she went out onto the lawn and stopped short.

The Hatter's chair was facing away from her, but she could see Mally and the March Hare as they were seated on the sides. Mally was expertly tossing sugar cubes into the air for the Hare, though she bounced them off his nose and ears to get them to fall into the cup. He laughed insanely at every success and every failure.

Taking a few steps down the stairs, she got their attention. Mally tossed a final cube that landed square into the Hare's open mouth as they both came to a halt.

"Is it?" There was a chortling laugh from the Hare.

"It is!" Mally clapped her hands together.

She observed the very top of a very familiar top hat pop up from the behind the back of the chair.

"Hatter?" Her voice rang out against the silent night, clear as a bell.

"Alice?" He jumped out of his chair, landing neatly next to it. After having been in a depressed mood for the last seven or so years, he did not look his best. Staring at her though, standing there, everything about him seemed to lighten and perk up considerably. Those brilliant green eyes of his flashed and he appeared to her as she'd last left him.

Before another word could be said, he rushed forward and embraced her as tightly as he could, "You came back! And you're the proper size this time! You're just Alice sized, I see, not too tall or too small!"

She hugged him as well, with her hands clutching at his back while he wrapped his arms around her waist, "I've missed you very much, Hatter."

"You remember me?"

"I told you, I couldn't forget you, even if I wanted to." Without thinking of it, she placed a light kiss upon his cheek.

At the table, the Hare imitated the kiss and toppled from chair, leaving Mally laughing with glee on the other side.

Largely ignoring them, Alice and Hatter pulled back from one another, and he took ahold of her hands in his, "I couldn't stop time this time around, I hope you're not mad at me. I kept trying and trying to get it to stop but it perfectly defied my request. Time has no respect for Hatters you know!"

"Well, I suppose that time must move forward."

"Indeed. Would you like a cup of tea? We have black tea, white tea, green tea, pink tea, brown tea, yellow tea –"

"Hatter?"

"I'm fine." He swallowed, "Tea?"

"Yes, please." She was escorted to the chair normally reserved just for her.

"Why'd you come back?" Asked Mally.

Alice took a deep breath, "My daughter is here, and I cannot find her."

The Hatter stopped his tea in mid-pour, "You didn't come back to visit?" She noticed that his eyes were a tinge gold and she had to hurry and explain herself.

"Oh believe me, I would have been back sooner, but I was in China and I was so far away from the Rabbit hole!"

The Hare giggled, "Rabbit! Hare!"

"You have a daughter?" Mally asked the question in a statement style manner.

"Yes I do, her name is Margaret."

"Uh-oh!" Thackery smirked.

"You didn't get married did you? How could you get married and not invite your three good friends to the wedding? That's very naughty of you! We should have least expected an invitation, an R.S.V.P, a responde sil vous plait, a card –"He was getting agitated again and she stopped him with a gentle hand on his arm.

"I didn't get married."

She could see the Hatter close his eyes in relief for a moment while he began to re-pour the tea, "Well, that is very curious! How is it that you have a wee little tyke and no husband?"

"I don't know actually, it's quite a mystery."

"Well, lucky for you, I'm still investigating things that begin with the letter M, although, I think I might want to add another letter soon you know? Expand the search?"

"A for Alice!" Chirped the Hare.

"Yes, we could investigate the letter A. No one ever investigates the first letter and indeed, I think that's where they should start! Begin at the beginning, if you start at the end, well that will ruin the story!"

"Most people do!" Argued the Hare.

Mally jumped up and flung a sugar cube straight against his nose. He gazed down at it with wide eyes, "Sugar."

Alice laughed softly at the rather mad actions of the party. It felt very good to be back in the company of these three such persons. For another hour she sat there, sipping her tea, marveling at how it never seemed to go cold. They conversed openly and freely, talking of the battle with the Jabberwocky and the many things that begin with the letter "M."

The evening had already begun when Alice had arrived at the party, and so the group began to show the general signs of the tired natures. It wasn't long before Mally climbed in her personal teapot, pulling the ceramic lid over her so that she could rest. For his part, the Hare just collapsed upon the table; his head perched upon two or three scones, with raspberry jam getting into his already matted fur.

Alice took her final sip of tea, setting down the cup gently on the fine tray, "You all gave me quite a fright earlier. I went to the tea party and no one was there."

"Underland is changing, The White Queen called all of us to come to her castle for protection."

"Changing?"

"Too many things are one way and not any other. Everything's gone terribly flat." His eyes were hollow and despondent.

She didn't attempt to understand him, the last time she had seen those eyes was during his remembrance of the tragedy in his village.

Instead, she reached out a hand and grasped his with it, entwining her fingers with his, "Can we stop it?"

"The White Queen makes promises, but I've seen her eyes Alice. They're lying. I don't want to live in a world where the White Queen lies to me."

"She's not lying; she's probably just trying to protect you."

He squeezed her hand, "A white lie then?" He laughed, "I haven't told Mally or Thackery, I'm afraid they're just too mad to understand it."

"Why don't you try and get some rest?" As she got up from the table, he would not loose his grip on her hand.

"Will you stay? I cannot sleep in the castle; it would be rude to sleep in there when the party is out here!"

Alice almost asked him what party he was referring to, but she realized that for him, the tea party would never fully end. She sat back down and cleared her teacup and saucer away from the section of the table in front of her. Plucking the cushion from another chair, she laid it on the table like pillow and rested her head up on it.

He leaned back in his large chair and went to sleep, comforted in the thought that his Alice was not far away anymore.

She did not fall asleep so quickly, but instead gazed up at the stars as best she could. First thing tomorrow morning, she would set out after her daughter.


	6. 5: Reunited

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Part 5: Reunited

Part 5: Reunited

Author's Note: The revelation chapter, maybe not the meaning behind everything, but some of the other mysteries will be cleared up. Please continue to review! I check obsessively and they really do keep me writing!

* * *

Margaret did not recall falling asleep. At some point during the night though, she must have collapsed from sheer exhaustion. She recalled the Son trying to lift her to the window, and the disappointment of finding the bars to be firmly intact.

Now as the first rays of dawn fell on her face, she woke up afraid. She shook the young boy sleeping next to her, "Wake up!"

He was in the same as her at first, a little groggy and sleep-dusted in the eyes, but he soon remembered their predicament.

Margaret jumped up towards the window, "Help! Someone help us!"

She did not receive any response and she sat back down on the ground, "Haven't you ever tried to escape before?"

"Where would I go?"

Suddenly, there was a sniffing noise at the bars, "Is someone down there?"

She ran to the window, or as close as she could get, "Who are you?"

"It's Gryphon!"

Part of Margaret wanted to throw up her hands in exasperation and ask if this was really happening, and the other part of her wanted to hug the odd creature.

"Gryphon?" The Son ran over to the window, "It's me!"

"Hello Son!"

"Can you get us out of here?"

"I don't know, the Duchess probably wouldn't like that," He leaned close to the bars, "She's scary."

Margaret thought a moment, "If you let us out, I'll listen to a poem with you!"

"Miss Not-Alice! Is that you?"

"Yes, now please, help us out of here!"

The Gryphon practically danced with the thought of being able to hear a poem with new and old friends alike. The severity of the situation being entirely lost on him, he did a short jig before grasping the bars with his talons. Margaret's mother had always told her that people were compensated in different ways in life. Some were mad and quite liked, some were smart but quite weak, and some were strong, but were lacking in mental capacity.

The Gryphon was one such individual, and with one forceful pull, he tore the bars from their place in the ground, "I did it, I did it!" He rhymed aloud.

"Quiet!" Whispered the Son, "Here, now grab onto Miss Margaret and pull her out."

"Who is Miss Margaret?"

The Son stared at Margaret and she looked back at him, "Miss Not-Alice!"

"Oh!" One of the Gryphon's long legs extended down to greet them, and though the talons were fierce and vicious, he wrapped them around Margaret's hands and easily lifted her out on the grass that adorned the lawn.

"Get the Son!" In a hurried whisper, she urged the Gryphon back and he eagerly obliged.

Once the pair of them was out, they sat on the lawn for a moment, their clothes slowly being wetted by morning dew as the first rays of light poured over the land.

"Poem!"

"What?"

"You said you'd listen to a poem!"

She thought about it, "Could I tell you a poem?"

"Please?" He begged.

"I have a wonderful poem, but I'll only tell it if we can walk back to the forest."

The little trio set off down the path. Margaret indeed had the perfect poem for Gryphon, who liked to live next to the ocean with Mock Turtle. She spun a wonderful poem about a two young lovers and a kingdom by the sea.

The Duchess had the flaw of liking to sleep late, until the noon bells rang. It would be some time before she noticed her loss.

* * *

Alice awoke to a hand on her shoulder. As she opened her eyes slowly, she noticed the Hatter, still asleep in his chair and she had a soft smile on her face.

"I supposed that I would find you here." The voice behind the hand spoke low behind her.

Mirana was staring whistfully into the gardens, "How does one try to separate such old friends anyway?"

"I don't know." Alice got up from the table, and followed the queen inside the castle.

Once inside, with the doors so safely secured behind them, Mirana turned to her champion, "Why don't we speak in my throne room? I have something that I need to tell you."

"Is it about Margaret? Did Bayard find her?"

"Not yet, I'm afraid, but he will. Everyone is out looking for her, even the Bandersnatch and Chessur."

There was a comfort in Alice's heart that one of the most fearful creatures in all of Underland was looking to bring Margaret back under Alice's protective wing. Part of her though, wondered what adventures her daughter was having. Did she see Underland for all the wonder her mother had?

Servants brought a light breakfast to the queen and the champion as they sat in the throne room, and Mirana asked them all, with great politeness, to leave the two alone so they could converse in private.

"What I have to say, is about Margaret," Mirana stopped, "About who she is."

"She's my daughter."

"Yours, and others."

"Others?"

The White Queen put her pale hand to her forehead and turned her face away for a moment, embarrassed, "Oh Alice, I've gone and tampered with fate, and I hope you will be able to forgive me in time."

The younger woman was fairly frozen, listening to the monarch's apologies before a single secret spilled out from her lips.

"You were never supposed to leave Underland."

"What?"

"Have you not ever wondered why you've been called back here?"

Honestly, Alice had no answer for that. Why had it been her? Why was there not one other person in all the Otherland to receive such a call?

"Something is happening to Underland, it is becoming much less, wonderful."

"The Hatter mentioned that."

"He has been greatly vexed by this. I had to bring him to my castle to give him peace, Mally said he was going into rage nearly every day."

"But why?"

"He's the Hatter, it's just – "

"No, about the changing."

"Oh!" Mirana sighed, "Since you defeated my sister, we've had no Red Queen."

"I thought that was a good thing."

"Oh it is not! It is good that my sister is no longer in power, but to not have a Red Queen at all, nice or cruel, is a very terrible thing."

Seeing that Alice did not quite comprehend her, Mirana took her by the hand and led her to the window, "Underland is not like your world, Alice. Things must be different here if they are to be at all. Everything must be one way and then another. There must always be two ways to see something."

It began to dawn on her as to what Mirana wanted.

"Since the dawning of this world, there have been two courts, Red and White. Now, there is only one, and this world cannot live under my rule alone."

"It's a matter of perspective."

"Entirely. My sister's reign turned the kingdom dark and dangerous; we need a kind and gentle Red Queen to restore the Underland to its full glory. Back the way things were, when you first arrived."

It had seemed to Alice, in her last visit, and in this one, that the place seemed to be suffering from a melancholy. The flowers were finicky, the trees drooped, the creatures sullen, and the people, while liberated, a touch depressed.

"Why didn't you stop me before? Why does this have to fall on Margaret?"

"Margaret is here because of this!" Mirana grasped her arm, nearly pleading, "She would not be alive today if you had stayed, but I could not force that on you!"

Alice stared at her old friend with a look meant to pull truth from another, "Tell me exactly what you did."

"It was a potion that I made. Before we went to fight the Jabberwocky, I fed it to you at dinner that night. I trust the Oraculum, but I wanted to be sure that there would be a Red Queen no matter what."

"What would have happened if I had died?"

"There was no need for such things," Mirana paused, "Iracebeth would have then killed me and it would have been her problem to bear." The White Queen rolled her eyes, "I doubt she would have even cared."

The mother's breathing increased, her heart beat faster in her breast, "Is Margaret not my, my…"

She was nearly too afraid to ask. Her mind whirled. Had she been tricked into carrying a child that was not her own? Were the circumstances surrounding Margaret's birth all based on falsehoods? If this was true, then why did the little girl appear to be almost a copy of her mother?

"Margaret is your daughter, your own flesh and blood. I used half of you to create her after all."

"My muchness?" It was not so much a statement as a whispered revelation told out-loud to one's self.

"Yes. Your goodness, your light. That part of you that is our champion slayer and an adventurer. Your muchness."

With a sigh of relief, Alice laid her hands upon the window ledge and leaned against it. There was a noticeable silence in the room, which proved to be entirely too uncomfortable for Mirana. Knowing she had meddled in business not her own, the White Queen unfortunately held herself both responsible for her manipulation and the health of her dear kingdom.

"Are you, terribly mad at me?"

"I don't know. I love Margaret more than life itself, but I'm worried."

"Worried?"

"She doesn't have a choice anymore. If I understand what you're telling me, then she had no other option in life than to be the new Red Queen."

"Underland is full of adventures though, fit for a queen." Mirana was trying to make the news more palatable.

Something that had been said earlier came back to Alice and she looked at the White Queen, "Who is the other half of Margaret?"

* * *

Upon the conclusion of the poem, the Gryphon had wandered off aimlessly, although he insisted he was headed back towards the beach.

Margaret and the Son headed through the woods, the Son trying to remember the best possible route to the castle of the White Queen. He said that he did not know much of her, except that if his mother did not approve of her, then she must be a good person.

"Are you Margaret Kingsley?"

Margaret turned around quickly, but nothing was behind her. The son tapped her on the shoulder and she turned again to find a floating grin of sharp teeth not too far from her face.

"Yes." Her response was stilted and reserved.

"We've been looking for you since last night, love." The grin spun around and when it returned to its correct position, the air around it filled in to reveal a cat.

"Who are you?"

It offered its paw, "I'm Chessur."

She shook it, "Why have you been looking for me?"

"Not only me, all of us. Your mother is quite beside herself with worry you know." He glided around her on the air, "You could be her twin."

"Everyone says mother and I look alike."

"Usually, everyone is wrong, but in this case, I'd give them the benefit of the doubt."

A baying bloodhound came flying down the path.

"Told you I would find them first." The cat smirked and vanished almost immediately.

The bloodhound seemed to not hear the cat's triumph, "Follow me, I'll take you to Marmoreal."

"How far is it?"

"Not too far, as soon as the Bandersnatch arrives, he'll take you the rest of the way."

She leaned over to the Son, "What's the Bandersnatch?"

He was lost for words, "You'll just have to see it for yourself."

* * *

As with most mornings, Hatter jolted out of sleep. It was only appropriate for him, functioning almost as a shift in one of his moods.

His eyes went back and forth quickly. Thackery, Mally's Teapot, empty chair. Empty chair?

He was certain that Alice had come back, hadn't she? Was it a dream? He was so tired of dreams of his Alice, they had been coming every night, but last night's seemed so real!

"Alice?" He whispered. Leaning forward, he peeked around the edges of his chairs as if expecting to find her playing a game of hide and seek, "Alice?"

Thackery stirred slightly, tipping over his empty tea cup.

"No Alice," His face fell considerably, "I think I must be going mad."

"Going mad, the best people, bonkers." He kept on murmuring to himself, all the things she had said to him, as if they would bring her back. Her revelation that the best people were mad, just like him, had given him a certain amount of comfort in her absence.

His dejected feelings came to the surface with a vengeance and he knocked the teapot in front of him off the table. It cracked and shattered upon the patio not far away, the little shards spilling out across the way. With gold eyes aflame, he marched away from the tea party into the castle while a groggy Thackery and Mally woke and looked on in unexpected amazement.

The servants cleared out of the way of the enraged Hatter as he strode down the hallway. Angry at himself and anything that came close, he spit out a series of words in the Underland's language that were barely discernable to any native speakers. One could be fairly certain that they were not pleasant words.

Throwing open the doors to throne room, he strode inside. Alice and Mirana whipped around as fast as they possibly could. He was so far gone into his own head that even the sight of Alice didn't stop him.

She ran forward and held his face in her hands, "Hatter!"

He finally halted, and fell to his knees.

She went to the ground right beside him, "Hatter!"

Choking up a bit, he coughed, "I'm fine."

"What's the matter?"

"Matter… Hatter…." He stopped, "I thought you were a dream."

He put his hand over hers as she continued holding onto him, "I'm not a dream."

"Oh I know, but you disappear so quickly!"

"I won't disappear again, if I leave, I'll tell you."

His mood dramatically improved and he got to his feet, pulling her up with him, "You're going to stay?"

With such bright eyes and a beaming smile confronting her, Alice could not yet bring herself to say that she hadn't quite decided on that part yet.

"Well, I – "

There was a thunderous noise from the outside and all three of them ran out to the main courtyard. The Bandersnatch was flying up the long path to the castle. It skidded to a halt, spraying rocks out in front of it. Bayard was at its side, howling triumphantly. Leaning down, the Bandersnatch dropped two small people off its back.

"Margaret!" Alice practically screamed her daughter's name and took off running fast as she could toward her child.

"Mother!" The response for the daughter was similar, and it wasn't long before she was swept up into her waiting parent's arms.

Alice fairly covered her in kisses and threatened to never let her go again. The daughter endured it all well, maintaining a dignified air about her though inside she had never been so grateful to see her mother.

The Son walked up the path to the White Queen, who greeted him with a kiss upon his forehead. She had little knowledge of the son of the Duchess, but she was obliged to show him kindness in the face of his vicious mother. A few of her handmaids came over and hustled the boy inside, eager to feed him treats and other tiny cakes. He was, after all, so very thin.

Finally, Alice allowed her daughter to be set upon the ground again. Before they had a chance to walk back to the others, the Hatter was there to greet them.

"It's a miniature Alice!" He remarked, sweeping the hat from his head and bowing, "My name is Tarrant, I'm a hatter."

"I'm Margaret, it's nice to meet you, Mr. Hatter."

"Just Hatter please. Once you start with titles then it has to be Mr. Hatter or Mr. Tarrant, or Mr. Hightopp, or Mr. Tarrant Hightopp, or – "

"Hatter." Alice whispered, and he shook his head slightly.

"I'm fine."

Margaret actually laughed at this behavior, and he grinned at her, replacing the hat upon his head, "I will call you Hatter if you will just call me Margaret."

"So agreed!" He went down on one knee and looked closely at her, "Do you have any idea why a raven is like a writing desk?"

Peering out of the corner of her eyes, Margaret pursed her lips, "I think I do."

"Wonderful!" Clapping his hands, he stood and offered his arm to Alice and his other hand to Margaret, "We must have tea to celebrate!"

* * *

Mirana was the last one to enter the gates again, watching her guests walk before her. Formality was not something she was wont to play with at this moment.

Chessur floated next to her, he had been silent for a time but being that he was a cat, he could not resist that last final nudge, "When are you going to tell Alice that the Hatter is Margaret's other half?"


	7. 6: Perspective Altered

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Part 6: Perspective Altered

Part 6: Perspective Altered

Author Note: I just realized something… this is my first story to break 100 reviews and it's not even done yet! So thank you all very much! Please keep reviewing!.

Also, there may be a delay in updates, as you may have noticed this chapter took longer than usual. My father recently passed away and I've been taking a break from normal life, and I will continue to be involved in planning for the memorial until Mid-April or so, but I have been continuing to write.

Warning for some brief violence in this chapter.

* * *

Mirana stared after the little group, walking ahead of her, towards the door to the splendid gardens.

She had no need to turn; she could feel the exceedingly wide grin of the cat boring into her skin.

"Well?"

"Tonight, at dinner." Turning, she petted the cat behind his ears and coaxing a purr from him, "Will you keep my secret until then?"

"And no longer." He vanished.

* * *

Rage was perhaps not the right word. A furor, maybe. A frumious rage-filled furor? The manservant was desperately trying to bide his time as he hide outside the house of the Duchess.

Ever since she had discovered the disappearance of the girl and her son, the woman had been spouting tirades in Outlandish and English and tearing around her abode.

"I will kill her!"

The manservant shuddered, she had killed before. An unfortunate chambermaid strangled within an inch of her life and then tossed into the bloody red crimson waters of Iracebeth's lake. He thought it best to remain out of her way until she calmed down.

So, as it were, she came to him, "That little Alice has done nothing but terrorize all the decent people of Underland since she first arrived! I am going to kill her myself before all this is through!"

"Madame, she is not Alice." It was an incredibly thoughtless statement to let leave his lips.

Catching him by his ear, she nearly tore it off, "Don't you understand? Mirana has called Alice back to put her on the throne of the Red Queen. My throne! Not that little brat's!"

"Alice has never stayed before; maybe she doesn't want the throne!"

"Of course she does! Look what's she stolen already! My son is missing and so are my potions!"

"Potions, ma'am?"

"My Red Queen perspective is missing! I finally find a vial after all these years and she helps herself to it! And my Perspect-All is missing!"

"What would Alice need with – OW!" She yanked hard upon his ear.

"How am I going to convince Mirana to crown me the new Red Queen if I can't change her mind?" The Duchess then shrieked, "Manually!"

"I -, I –"He stammered and stuttered.

"Idiot!" Throwing him to the ground, she stomped inside, "There's your 'I'!"

"We're going to the potion shop immediately!"

* * *

The Son was not used to being fussed over and cuddled. Indeed, he was barely used to any form of attention that that did not involve his becoming bruised.

In the kitchen, he was given many a kiss upon his forehead by the White Queen's handmaids and they handed him tarts and sweets and tiny cakes. He took them all eagerly and nearly ate himself sick. After awhile, the women left and he found himself wandering the kitchen. For some reason, he thought he knew this place. It all seemed so familiar to him.

"She keeps the Good Luck Syrup in the top drawer and the Bad Luck Tonic in the bottom drawer." He said aloud almost as if recalling a dream, and went to Mirana's apothecary table to confirm his suspicion. With trembling hands, he reached for the ornate drawers and pulled them out. There in the top drawer, right near the front, was a tiny vial of "Good Luck Syrup."

Gulping slightly, he backed up until he ran into another table. The poor child knocked several items from this other table and fell to the ground to retrieve them. Muttering to himself for his foolishness, he looked nearly as uncoordinated as a dodo bird.

With the noise from the falling items and the voices in his own mind admonishing him, he did not seem to notice what slipped from his own pocket and rolled across the floor. It came to rest at the foot of the oven, and had he been conscious of it, he would have picked it up immediately. As it were however, the arrival of a frenzied and laughing March Hare scared him out of the room, ducking pots and pans as he ran.

In honor of the guests and the evening to commence, the White Queen had asked the March Hare to make everyone a special meal based on their own preferences. Thackery was quick to oblige this request for perfected inconsistency.

He rubbed his paws together and began tossing items into the queen's soup with a fevered delight, mumbling and laughing as went.

Never mind that he couldn't quite distinguish between the queen's favorite flavoring bottle and another anonymous one that just happened to be lying there.

* * *

Firia was whistling happily as she rearranged her shop. She moved things around quite frequently, an unfortunate side effect of being so constantly exposed to various perspectives. It was very often that a single inhale would bring a few specks of some new idea into her head. Most people walked around in rose colored glasses, Firia wore a pair that must have been rainbow colored.

Just as she was putting the vials into order by the color of the glass, an idea that seemed to be getting less and less sensible as it progressed, the door to her shop opened.

Turning her head slightly, she called over her shoulder, "Hello! Can I help you find anything?"

"Red Queen perspective, Iracebeth."

She paused at the voice and swallowed, "I don't have any of that. We ran out a few years ago."

Firia knew what was coming before it even started to happen, it was a curious trait of hers. A pair of strong hands grabbed her by the hair and threw her backwards into her countertop.

As soon as she hit the wooden surface, the manservant of the Duchess held onto her throat and began to cause her to lose her breath.

"I know you're lying." The Duchess walked up to her, "I've seen the Red Queen perspective myself, not a day ago."

"You stole it!" Firia managed to squeak out her revelation in protest.

"Where's the rest of it?"

"There's no more!" She strangled out the words, "That was all of it!"

"Can you make more?"

"No!"

"Are you sure? I know you, Firia, you like to lie."

"That's your opinion."

The Duchess leaned over the struggling shopkeeper, "Don't you mean my perspective?"

"Let me go! I don't have anything!"

Nodding at her manservant, he was relieved to be able to drop the woman out from his hands. He did not wish to be murderous himself. Taking the precious few moments left, he strode out of the shop as fast as his little shoes would carry him.

As the younger woman struggled to regain her breath, she collapsed onto the floor in a heap of green fabric and disheveled brown curls. Her breathing came in the gasps of one who had been the dedicated user of a pipe.

Bending over, the older woman brought her face close, her rancid breath stinging Firia's eyes, "If you can't help me, you're worthless."

She reached into her pocket and withdrew something. The younger woman was still too strained from her experience to focus in, but perhaps it was better that way.

Firia did not feel the knife as it pierced her abdomen. For a second it stayed there, and then the shock of pain ran through her body as it was quickly withdrawn. The Duchess pulled a clean white kerchief from her pocket and wiped the thick red liquid from the blade.

All she could do was stare as her own precious life's fluid came off the gleaming metal. Putting a hand to her stomach, she felt it cover her fingers, "Why?"

"Like I said dear, you're worthless to me." There was a rather cruel laugh, "Think of it this way, your time was up."

Sighing, she observed with a great deal of sadness, the red that so delicately pooled around her body on the floor, "I prefer to think," She took a breath, "That you didn't get what you want."

This irritated the Duchess, but she mused that there was no sense in beating a soon to be dead horse, "Have a wonderful day." She left to join her manservant outside for the journey to Salazen Grum.

Staring at the reflection of the light upon her blood, Firia had only a few breaths left with which to speak aloud, "It's rather pretty, in a way." She leaned her head back against the counter and closed her eyes for the final time.

* * *

Mirana had to steel her body and her will before dinner. She recalled her last such attempts, poised in front of a looking glass, assuring herself that she would be victorious. Jabberwocky be damned indeed, somehow, it would be harder to tell her champion that she had betrayed the trust between friends.

Her own bonds so carelessly tossed aside, she now risked the destruction of the lovingly close relationship that Alice enjoyed with her Hatter. All afternoon she had gazed from her balcony into the gardens and upon the ever-ongoing tea party.

He had been so good with Margaret. Between the tea pot tricks and tea cup balancing acts that had so drawn in her mother, he entertained the young child. It was not until he granted Margaret's request to wear his exceptional top hat that she had to turn away from the scene.

Guilt was a terrible little feeling to have gnawing on one's mind. Mother, father, and child were enjoying quite a joyous moment, and they did not even know the half of it.

Adjusting the crown on her head, she took one last deep breath and regally paraded into the hallway. With upheld hands, she clapped lightly, "Please call everyone to dinner!"

The assembly was quick to be sure. Mally ran in from the garden with Margaret in pursuit of her, fairly convinced that the odd dormouse creature had taken something of value to her. Alice was not too far behind, on the arm of the Hatter who had taken to naming similarities between Alice and Margaret. He was especially fond of those that began with the letter M, no matter how rare they might be.

"Thackery has been very kind; he prepared a special meal for everyone here." They were seated, and the March Hare, his cooking completed, joined them.

Tea was served, and Margaret was given her first taste of the sugar juggling antics. She very eagerly participated and was able to get over half of the sugar cubes into the appropriate mug. Alice saw little merit in trying to dissuade her child from throwing things at the table, no one in Underland seemed to mind it at all. And if she chose to stay, Margaret would simply fit in better with the others.

Alice was amused that she was entertaining the idea of staying here.

Servers appeared and in one grand flourish, they set each tray down before its intended recipient at the same time before lifting off the lids.

The March Hare seemed not to remember that he'd prepared his own meal and stared at it, "Salad," He said wistfully, before digging into it and practically throwing the leafy greens all over the table.

Mally grinned at him as she nibbled on her tea cakes and flung the lettuce back onto his plate.

Mirana was served her own special soup. Unlike her sister, she felt that one could not rule over anyone and also partake in the consumption of them as well. She would not impose such dietary restrictions on her guests however, since she was the only one who seemed to enjoy her soups. Lifting the spoon to her lips, she took a long sip of the green liquid as she watched the three other humans like herself trading tastes of their meals.

The White Queen did not every eat very much and she finished her meal swiftly so that she could engage in conversation with dignity. There was so much of it going on around her that she felt positively left out.

It almost… angered her.

She shook her head as if she was trying to knock the dark thoughts out of her very ears, but they would not leave. The blood was rising to her cheeks, and she felt her temperature begin to rise considerably.

Her fingers were wrapped so tightly around the handle of her spoon that she thought she might break it. It was a fight for her to set it down gently, instead of slamming it upon the table. Air came in gasps to her lungs, as the rage so increased that she could not breathe properly.

Mirana willed herself to fight this, to bring back the peace in her mind that she worked so hard to maintain.

It was a useless effort. She was fighting a battle against something that she could not defeat and after only a few minutes more, she succumbed to it.

With the flat of her palms, she slammed her hands onto the table as she stood up. Everyone was immediately silent.

"Your majesty?" Ventured the Hatter, his eyes were yellow around the outsides as his fear became readily apparent.

"Are you okay?" Alice asked, looking up at her with frightened eyes.

"How dare you! You're the one who killed my Jabber-baby-wocky!" Mirana shrieked, stomping her feet.

"The Jabberwocky belonged to the Red Queen." The Hatter raised a finger.

"I am the Red Queen, you idiot!"

Alice and the Hatter looked at each other before he whispered to her, "I don't like this game very much."

She agreed with him, "You're Mirana, the White Queen."

"I am not!" She wielded her soup spoon like a scepter, "I am Iracebeth, Queen of all Underland!"

Hatter leaned forward, "Perhaps you should look around."

Mirana gazed at the room and then down at her hands, "What's happened to me? What did you do?"

"Nothing!" Squeaked Mally, jumping onto the table in defense of her friends.

"I'll teach you to lie to me!" Throwing her arms down to her sides, she screamed for her guards, "Off with their heads!"

The guests at the dinner all looked at one another before the Hatter came up with a most excellent suggestion, "Run!"

Before the guards for the White Queen could even enter the room, the assortment took off through the large white doors with Mirana's shrieks ringing in their ears. Alice took Margaret into her arms, while the Hatter pulled the Son along by his hand. Mally found refuge on Bayard's back as he led out his wife and children. The March Hare tugged at the coat of a hyperventilating McTwisp.

Out in the courtyard, they had no other choice but to continue running until they reached the safety of the woods. With one hand on his hat and the other pulling along the small boy, he led them down the path until the castle of Marmoreal was out of sight.

Alice was fairly ready to collapse; she leaned against a tree and allowed Margaret to be set upon the ground. Indeed, they all fell to the earth, breathing hard and watching the woods around them for signs that the guards were coming after them.

McTwisp hopped from foot to foot, "Oh dear, oh dear, oh dear."

"What happened back there?" Asked Alice, holding Margaret close to her.

"She thought she was the Red Queen!" Stated Mally, rather defiantly, "Ruined a perfectly good dinner."

"Mally!" Scolded the Hatter.

The Son, who had been sitting on a fallen tree, suddenly shook his head and his body began to go limp. His eyes rolled up and he slipped backwards, landing hard on his back with his legs still resting on the tree trunk.

"Hello?" Hatter walked over to him and peered over, "He's just collapsed, simply just fell over! Rather odd thing to do, just to lie down when we're on the lamb, running away, fleeing the scene, trying to –"

"Hatter?" It wasn't Alice this time however though, and neither was it Mally or Thackery.

Margaret looked positively ill, and even standing, she swayed a little bit on her feet, "I don't feel so well, mother."

"You don't look well, dear." Alice put a hand to her child's forehead, "What hurts?"

"My head feels very funny."

Both Hatter and Alice knelt down in front of her, staring at her dull eyes and pallid skin. He ventured a question, "Is it terribly crowded in there?"

"Yes." She managed a murmur before falling forward into her mother's arms.

"Margaret?" Alice patted her daughter's cheek, "Sweetheart?" Gazing up with scared eyes, she looked at her old friend, "What's going on, Hatter?"

"I haven't the slightest idea."

* * *

An hour had passed. The small group still remained hidden in the woods, keeping watch over their two youngest. Both Margaret and the Son remained in some sort of unconscious state, and had been lovingly laid on the flat ground to keep them comfortable. Alice kept vigil over her daughter out of love and the Son out of her pity.

"How is everyone?"

The mother sighed, "We have been better, Chessur."

Sets of angry and betrayed eyes turned to find the illusive cat hovering not too far from the children.

"Where have you been?"

"At the castle, I've been trying to figure out what's gone wrong with our White Queen."

"Well?"

"Best I can figure, her personality has been replaced with the Red Queen's."

Mally waved her hat pin sword, "I coulda told you that! You big stupid galumphing – "

"Please," Asked Alice, "Do you know what's wrong with my daughter?"

"Nothing is wrong with her really." He slid around on the air, but didn't get to finish.

The Son roused, "What?" As the small child stood up, he suddenly changed in appearance. He grew and altered from a young boy, to adult man.

Dressed in white and silver, he stood taller than the Hatter with dark and piercing eyes, and while he may have been a young man, his hair was a bright white to match his clothes.

As if the change itself had not been enough of a shocker, Alice heard the resounding chorus of gasps that accompanied those who were taking a second look. She wasn't certain what all the fuss was for.

Bayard howled with joy and there were smiles all around, "We thought you were dead!"

Chessur actually made the impression of a bow, as much as any cat was truly wont to do though, and gave his infamous grin, "Valoren, so that's where you were hiding."

"Hiding?" The man looked around and then down at his hands, almost as if he could not recall himself.

Alice leaned over to the Hatter, "Who is that?"

Hatter smiled at her, "It's the White King!"

"That's right!" He turned fast, "I am the White King!" It didn't take long for his face to fall though, "Mirana, my wife, she's – "

Chessur patted him on the back.

"One moment," Hatter got up and walked over, "I don't understand. The White King was killed years ago, and you can't possibly be him! You'd have to be dead, or undead, or an imposter, or a good twin, or an evil twin –"

"Hatter!"

"I'm fine."

Valoren the White King looked at this man who had approached him, "Tarrant Hightopp? You made all our hats!"

"I used to." Hatter's voice was small and rather sad as he recalled the wonderful years before the Red Queen destroyed his entire clan. Though Alice was still seated next to her daughter, she laid a hand on the back of Tarrant's leg to let him know that she was still here for him.

While everyone was focused on the suddenly returned White King, Margaret came to her senses. She was looking up at a canopy of trees and out of the corner of her eye, she could see her mother. Sitting up slowly, she came into Alice's notice.

"Margaret?" Alice looked curiously at her daughter.

Everyone turned to gaze at the young girl who was suddenly very interesting. She looked right back at them, but she could not see what was so intriguing about herself.

Taking her daughter's face in her hands, Alice looked into her daughter's eyes closely before closing her own with a contented sigh.

Thackery began to giggle and laugh insanely, pointing at Margaret and practically dancing a jig of delight.

"What's everyone looking at?" Asked Margaret in a hushed voice.

Alice brought some of Margaret's hair up to where she could see it. Her daughter's eyes grew wide as she gazed at how her once blond locks had turned to a very unique shade of orange.

"My hair is – "

Her mother nodded at her. The Hatter suddenly came up right next to her and stared, "Are you Margaret?"

"Yes!"

"But you have the same eyes as me!"

"She also has you hair." Murmured Alice. This was what Mirana had hesitated to tell her all along, but she could no longer conceal. Hatter was Margaret's father, her other half, and Alice could not say she had any regrets now that she knew. Of all the people she had tortured herself by musing over their possible paternity, she was relieved to find out that it was him.

He looked from Alice to Margaret and back again, "Alice, Margaret is your daughter. How does she have my eyes and my hair?"

Taking special care to make sure that he was looking directly at her, Alice allowed everyone to hear the truth. "Margaret is your daughter too. She's our daughter."

Somehow, he didn't seem to process the information as quickly as Alice would have liked, he whispered into her ear as quietly as he could, "But, we didn't?"

"No, Mirana created her. She used half of me and half of you to make Margaret, it was a potion."

"Oh!" He accepted this, and turned to look at Margaret.

She was nearly in shock, "Hatter is my father?"

"Yes dear, he is."

Margaret nodded and then, to her own surprise, gave a giggling laugh. It shocked him to hear it, and he was delighted into responding with a laugh of his own.

They regarded each other a moment, green eyes looking into newly green eyes before he nearly lunged forward and picked her up, spinning the little girl around.

"All this time and I've yet to make you a hat!" He grinned at her and kissed her cheek, "You're not terribly mad at me are you?"

"No!" She laughed, "Can I have a hat like yours?"

"Assuredly!"

Chessur rolled his eyes, "He'd never make me a hat like that."

Alice looked over at him, "You're not his daughter though." She watched the happy scene in front of her with no small amount of personal satisfaction.

He approached her, still carrying their daughter, "Can you believe it Alice? Our own little daughter; and she looks just like me and just like you! She's exactly what I was hoping for, if I had known to hope for her!"

The mother grinned, "I know, she's absolutely perfect."


	8. 7: Past Problems

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 7: Past Problems

7: Past Problems

Author's Note: Thank you to those who expressed their condolences and to all those who reviewed, I really appreciate you! Your reviews keep this story going! I would love to break 200 if I could! (Well, by the end of the story, you know, not just on this new chapter!)

I apologize for the short nature of this chapter, but I wanted so badly to give you all something for being so kind in your understanding of my situation. My father's memorial was actually today, so I can begin writing again tomorrow.

* * *

Valoren had been trying to piece his life back together. It was similar, he mused, the construction of a puzzle where the half the pieces were of a solid color scheme.

He paced, and fretted, walking back and forth between two specific trees until he had nearly worn a path in the ground.

Night glided in as easily as an elusive feline. Alice gazed up at the stars, wondering why people often said that night "fell." Most of the others in the group had already simply dozed off, lazing up trees or in some cases, upon one another. Thackery was especially humorous, propped up on his side with one leg ever twitching as his whiskers flitted back and forth without his knowledge.

Bayard and Bielle were covered in a blanket that consisted mostly of their own pups, whose tongues lolled about even on the ground!

For fear of being spotted, they had no fire, only the adjustment of their eyes to the sky's limited moonlight.

Hatter had flatly refused to even set Margaret down upon the ground again once he had found out the secret. She had fallen asleep in his arms, and once the effects of the evening began to wear upon him as well he sat down to lean against a tree. Margaret nuzzled up to him, using his chest for a pillow.

Alice could not resist sitting down next to them. She ran her fingers through the child's bright hair, which grew more and more unruly by the minute. The soft locks twisted easily around her fingers as she combed out any tangles.

"I must admit, it's very nice."

When he raised an eyebrow at her in question, she responded, "Her appearance. I'm rather glad she doesn't look exactly like me anymore. It was a bit, off-putting, to people."

"We're already a touch 'off' here, she will fit in wonderfully!"

Alice stared off into the distance of the woods, "Perhaps." Letting her head rest upon his shoulder, they both gazed down their daughter.

She sighed, "Good night, Hatter."

"Good night, my Alice." Without a second thought, he placed a kiss upon her cheek before kissing the top of Margaret's head. She instantly blushed, but did not question it. Instead, she placed the warm cheek back down on his shoulder and drifted off.

Valoren found himself beginning to remember what had transpired. He could recall his wife, the Red Queen, even the late Red King, and his memories from his odd time as 'The Son.' To be sure, he was feeling better. As he looked around though, he noticed that everyone except himself and possibly Chessur was already asleep. He never could easily see that cat. He would tell them a story tomorrow morning, it would make for intriguing breakfast conversation.

* * *

The Duchess' over-stressed steed marched up to the gate of Salazen Grum. Like most of the Underland, it had become a symbol of disrepair and despair, never mind its blood drenched history. For a truly sick person, such as her, it felt like coming back home. The empty and desolate halls, devoid of a soul, were so comforting to her person that she thought she might cry.

Her manservant was understandably uncomfortable. Especially upon his notice of the large stone execution block that still stood in the courtyard. During his time when the Duchess actually resided as a guest of the Red Queen, he'd lost a friend or two there. The cold gray beckoned him and he rushed past it into the main hall.

No one had bothered to lock up the place as it were, the last people out had been quite assured that one would ever wanted to voluntarily return. Neither had it been ransacked and looted, no one wanted to get anything that may bear crimson stains, whether or not they were real or merely, symbolic.

"This is all mine now." Murmured the Duchess, "You hear me, Iracebeth?"

She was quiet a moment, before her shrill voice rang like a bell, "Do you hear me! I am going to reclaim all of Underland! Death to the White Queen!"

"Don't you need the White Queen?" He ventured.

"Only for a moment or two. Then I suppose," She paused, "I'll chop of her pretty little head."

"Wouldn't it be more advantageous to keep her around? In case something goes wrong?"

He was a bit shocked when she actually considered his suggestion, but it would only lead her to something a bit more vicious.

"Mirana has too much power and too much support. Let's keep that Alice instead. No Underlandians would ever support a queen from the Otherworld, and once all her little friends are dead, she'll just be another casualty."

"Oh." Something in him, held his tongue for once. Let her keep her delusion that Alice was that little girl. The appearance of the real Alice might be a genuine surprise to the Duchess when it finally occurred.

That thought brought him some momentary comfort.

"Eiron?"

"Yes, my lady?"

"Do some cleaning around here, will you?"

Sighing, he went to go and find what had been left in the servant's quarters.

* * *

Mirana had a moment of clarity when she awoke the next morning. For a single second, she saw the world through her own eyes. It wasn't long before she lost it to a sea of red haze.

The guards of Marmoreal had not known how to interpret their new and more insane ruler. When the White Queen had spent all day yesterday ranting and raving like her sister, many of them had simply attempted to hide, hoping she would return to her senses. No such luck was to be had though.

She tore around the castle like a madwoman unhinged, throwing whatever she could get her hands on and screaming about imagined insults.

"I hate it here! I want to go home!"

The single guard with enough courage to stand his post nodded, "Where is home, my queen?"

"Salazen Grum! I wish to return there, immediately! This place is far too white and too perfect!"

"As you wish, my lady." He ran off to fetch the handmaids and some of the other guards.

As soon as she was alone in her throne room, that which was Iracebeth in Mirana's head was suddenly bombarded by pleas from the trapped White Queen.

"Racie, you lost, this isn't your kingdom and you need to leave my body."

"No! I can do whatever I want!"

"I won't let you! Eventually, this potion will wear off and you'll have to leave."

"That's what you think, little sister." The cruel smile worn by the Red Queen played upon the black lips of the White.

"You see, I spent the whole night wandering around in your pretty little head and I've found something rather interesting."

The inner voice of Mirana was silent.

"I know about little Margaret, and I know that you need her to take my place. Once I am back on my throne, all it will take is one little potion to turn that little girl into my puppet. I can make a new White Queen, one who is entirely obedient to me."

"You will leave that child alone!"

"Who's is going to make me? You and what army?"

The little part that remained Mirana curled up in the back of her own head. How long was this to last? And what was more, how had this happened?

* * *

In the woods, the little group was beginning to stir. Alice roused slowly, wondering if she had simply dreamed everything. She fancied waking up in her ornately carved bed in China with the sound of her daughter playing in the next room. The immediate sight of her child, the true version of her beloved child, did not let her hold to such fancies.

There was little Margaret with her new orange hair, dozing with her head upon her father's chest.

_Her father._

Alice still had a rather difficult time with it. The moment she had seen his own eyes in her daughter, there had been a feeling of serenity in her. Why had she been so pleased? And the night before, when he had so gently kissed her cheek, the blush that had come to her was not one of that having been embarrassed. It was not even one of this being the first time a man had been allowed to kiss her cheek.

To her, this was another kind of man entirely.

She didn't have time to dwell on that, however, as she noticed Valoren coming back through the woods. Lightly, she stroked Margaret's hair to wake her. As Margaret's eyes fluttered open, she caught her mother running her fingers gently down the side of the Hatter's face to wake him.

"Mother?"

Alice suddenly snapped to attention and she pulled her hand away as if she'd been burned, "Yes dear?"

"What are you doing?"

"I'm trying to wake your father."

"That is quite unnecessary, I am already awake!"

"You are?"

"Silly Alice!" He turned his head towards her, "I just told you that!"

She did not miss the wink that he directed at her.

The shadow of the White King fell over them, "I found some food for breakfast."

"Oh!" Alice got to her feet quickly and helped Margaret after her. Hatter was right after them. Soon enough, the entire party was gathered in a circle, eating the various fruits and berries that Valoren had managed to find in the surrounding area. It was not much, but it was enough to go around.

"I think I've figured out what happened yesterday." Was possibly the one phrase that he could have uttered that would not have been more effective at ceasing all conversation.

"About a year before the Red Queen took over Underland, her husband, the Red King, asked me to come and talk to him. He said that he wished to discuss a peace treaty between the two kingdoms. While I was there, she fed me something that turned me into the Son of the Duchess."

"A potion?"

"A perspective. The Red Queen had a perspective that would make me appear as the Son. But she must have tied it into my wife's perspective, so that even if she died, I wouldn't change back into my normal self."

"How long do these perspectives last?"

"It depends. Mirana is a person who loves everyone and wants to understand them. She's very susceptible to other points of view."

"What about Margaret?" The Hatter was genuinely concerned.

"The best I can guess is that her appearance was also a product of how Mirana wanted to see her. When my wife changed yesterday, everything that she saw normally must have shifted back to its true form."

Alice nodded, "Mirana created Margaret, but she must have known that she would have to look like me to fit in, in my world."

Mally jumped up, "How do we fix her?"

He shrugged, "We need Perspect-All."

Margaret stared at him, "Did you do this to her?"

"No!" Valoren defended himself, until he remembered. "I accidentally dropped the Red Queen perspective in the kitchen."

"How did the White Queen get it though?"

Hatter rolled his eyes, tilting his head to one side, staring at his tea table companion. Thackery lowered his head and pulled his ears down over his eyes as if to say, "You cannot see me."

"If the White Queen has the Perspect-All, will we change back into how we were before?" The little girl was serious and a touch frightened, "Will I have to go back home?"

He knelt down next to her, "Absolutely not! We'll get to stay like this forever, and you can come and go as you please, just like your mother."

Margaret felt slightly upset that her mother had never taken her to this world until now; that she had never introduced her to her father until a few hours ago, "What if I want to stay forever? Can I?"

Alice looked down at her daughter, "Do you want to?"

The child nodded rather enthusiastically.

"If you want to, we can."


	9. 8: Declaration Captured

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 8: Declaration Captured

8: Declaration Captured

Author's Note: Thanks for putting up with all my delays! I have finally laid the foundation for the ending of this story. I must admit that up until a few days ago, I only had a very flimsy idea of how it was all going to end. Originally, all I had was the prologue and I was going to leave it as a one-shot.

I stopped to work on a prompt for the AiW Kink Meme group, it's posted on , see my account – "Worth Fighting For."

Once again, my greatest thanks to the reviewers and all those who favorite the story, put it on alerts, etcetera! You do keep this story going!

Iracebeth in Mirana's body had ordered all of her guard and servants dispatched to the castle of Salazen Grum. They marched early upon the morning, leaving only a small troop of soldiers to guard Marmoreal. With the Bandersnatch effectively placed under a deep sleep with one of Mirana's left over potions, the Red Queen was not too concerned with losing control of the palace. Especially now that she had control over both armies, red and white, her position was secure, and could not be challenged by the rabble of the kingdoms.

Once she had the heads of Alice, the Hatter, and all of their other companions on pikes, preferably in her courtyard, there would be no resistance left. The death of both the Champion and the Underland's most beloved resident besides the White Queen would bring a fatal blow the resistance.

How Mirana had misunderstood her devious elder sister. The object had never been to take over Mirana's body, but to clear the way for the return of the real Iracebeth from exile; with Margaret the puppet queen leading the charge.

Until her untimely demise, or perhaps, just her eternal imprisonment.

Margaret shouted out in joy and embraced her mother, "We can stay!"

Alice hugged back, smiling, "I think this world is more suited to you anyway." She gently pushed her daughter's hair back behind her ear, "Besides, you need some time to get to know your father."

Hatter's eyes had initially brightened at the prospect of both of them staying in Underland and he listened intently. However, when Alice claimed that she was going to pursue this course simply for Margaret to be more comfortable in her own skin and have his company, he was less enthused.

"You're going to stay?" She knew that whispered voice, it was same one she's heard years ago on the chessboard battlefield. It was frightened and hopeful at the same time, and quiet enough for only her ears to hear.

"Yes." She looked straight at him. Her own beautiful eyes touched his soul in a manner that he could not grasp.

"Just for Margaret?"

"I – " Alice paused. Part of her decision was based on her daughter, yes, and being fair in that she deserved to spend time with both her parents.

There was also the interesting fact that she had last been seen diving off a ship, in a raging storm. Explaining that would be rather challenging, both to the crew and to her mother and sister. Her mother and sister, did she ever want to see them again? True it was that she loved them dearly, but perhaps Mirana had been right; before she had gone completely bonkers, that is, in suggesting that Alice was never meant to leave Underland. She had built a fortune to care for her family back in London, and she had never wanted a dime of it. All for the adventure, all for finding out exactly where she belonged if it was not one side of the world or the other.

The sheer restlessness of her existence denied her any peace. Any peace except that which she found running through Crims, slaying the Jabberwocky, or spending time with a Hatter at his tea party. Could she reasonably subject Margaret, or herself, to that terrible feeling any longer?

"I want to stay as well." There was a sweet, soft smile on her face, "I would like to get to know you again myself."

"It has been a long time." He looked at her with the same gaze as when he had first laid eyes upon her as a woman. The sense of expectation in his eyes could not be understated.

Despite having such pale skin, Alice was not known to blush, but she could swear she felt the redness in her cheeks.

Valoren, watching the scene from a short distance leaned over to speak to the Cheshire cat, "Have I missed something?"

Chessur did the one thing he was the best at, he grinned widely, "Oh, I never get involved in this sort of thing..."

The Duchess was rather caught by surprise as the troops of advancing white knights came into view. There were precious few moments in life when one found that their back was truly against the wall, but this was one of them. With no guard and only one servant to her name, she did not see the knights until they were upon her.

Secure in her knowledge that Mirana's oath would protect her life, at least for now, she retreated to the Red Queen's throne room.

It was not long before the doors were thrown back as if they had been kicked open. With guards flanking her, a very peculiar version of the White Queen sauntered into the throne room.

For all her hatred of her little sister, especially her little pimple of a head, Iracebeth was having a lovely time with that body. She wasn't used to having people regard her figure, as opposed to her bulbous head.

"Who has been in my throne room?" She yelled out, stalking the floor.

The Duchess was confused, but gulped and stepped forward, "My apologies, your majesty, I had no idea you would be visiting today."

"Duchess?" The eyes of White Queen looked over the old woman, "I thought you were dead."

"No, I left the Red Queen's court after she was banished."

Iracebeth sighed, "I am the Red Queen you idiot."

Eiron and the Duchess looked at one another for a moment, "You appear to be the White Queen, your majesty."

"Let's just say, I've had a change of mind."

The Duchess cautiously approached, her fingers practically twitching with fear, "Iracebeth?"

"Yes, you old fool!"

"But how?"

"My only guess is that it must have been a perspective potion."

"So he did take it!" Announced the Duchess, realizing what had happened, "My Son must have given you, your, perspective."

"Happy accidents." Grinned the false Mirana.

She thought a moment, "We have to be careful, your majesty."

"Why?"

"With the White Queen's perspective destroyed, that means my son has changed back into Valoren."

"Yes it has," Iracebeth sat down upon her old throne, longing for a warm pig belly upon which to place her feet, "Send out the guard! Find Valoren and bring him to me!"

Reluctantly, a set of White Knights ran off. Obedience to the queen overriding their respect for their long-vanished king.

Iracebeth was thinking about all this. The Duchess was useless to her; she was an overambitious old sow of a woman. She could hardly tolerate someone as violent as her in her court, why, the woman might give the orders for a beheading. Only she could do that!

She contemplated a good cry of, 'off with her head," but refrained a moment. If for any reason she lost Margaret, she might see to keeping the Duchess. Underland required two rulers, Mirana's thoughts had told her that, and she would reclaim her crown only to lose it to that sad little fact. Having a spare queen never hurt anyone really, just so long as she was under control. Margaret would be a tricky creature to get, and she did not intend on underestimating Alice, or the offspring of Alice, a second time.

"Servant!" She bade Eiron come forward, "Bring the Duchess a chair. We have business to discuss."

"Perhaps it's best if we press on to Salazen Grum."

"Why would we want to do that?" The white rabbit was breathing heavily and in danger of fainting.

"There's nothing to stay for. Marmoreal is still guarded and even if we overtook it, she would come back with both armies and have us killed." Valoren looked out through the woods, "If we are going to do anything about this, we will have to go to the Red Queen's castle."

Mally jumped over to her full, smallish height, "We need a plan."

"Haven't got one." Murmured the Hatter, staring down at Margaret. He was considering this particular girl who began with the letter M, "What should we do about Margaret?"

"What?"

"She can't possibly go with us," Noted Alice, "She's just a child."

"I would never put Margaret in danger." Valoren looked shocked, "We'll hide her in the garden of Crims. The flowers will look after her if we ask them nicely enough."

"I want to go with you!" Margaret stomped her feet, which was quite childish for her really, and stared up at her parents.

"Absolutely not!" Alice was adamant in her refusal, "If you're caught, she'll cut off your head."

"She won't catch me." The eyes of the little girl were changing, with flecks of yellow to dot them.

Hatter took to his knee next to her and stared her straight in the eyes, "She caught me you know. I know everyone in Underland, even time couldn't help me! I know every path, nook, cranny, backway, alleyway, sideroad, lost path – "

"Father!" That was quite new. Margaret was a defiant child, too intelligent to be so easily persuaded to an easy life. Even so, it brought him back.

"I want to come back from the Red Queen's castle and know that you are safe, my dear. You can play with the flowers, just don't pull on their petals, they hate that."

"I came here for an adventure, and I want to storm the castle with the rest of you."

"There won't be any storming of the castle." Valoren stated offhandedly, trying his best to stay out of the dispute.

"That would take a miracle." Smirked the Cheshire cat.

Margaret was not fond of being laughed at, or being put off, or being told she was simply too young to do all the things she wanted to do. The last weapon in her arsenal was pouting and so she tried it, if nothing else, she would find out if it did indeed work on her mother or father.

Alice reached down and took her daughter's face in her hands, "You know how much I love you?" Her eyes found Hatter already looking back at her, "How much your father and I love you?"

She nodded.

"If anything happens to us, I want you to go the little room in the garden of Crims. It will take you back to London. You'll find your grandmother, Helen Kingsley, she will take care of you."

The daughter considered what had been said to her, "Is it that dangerous?"

Both of them nodded. Margaret would remember to be silent on the issue for now. If it made her parents feel better that would agree to stay hidden, then she would certainly give the outward appearance of it.

The group kept up the pace to the Red Queen's castle. Hatter unfortunately, did not get to spend as much time with his Alice and their daughter on the trek. He was far too busy keeping Thackery with the group as the mad March Hare played jokes upon the excitable White Rabbit. Thackery could simply not understand what Nivens found so distasteful about being in a constant state of excitement and saw to remedy his view of the condition. It was not going well, and the Hatter was the only one who could keep things in order, strange though that was.

He could watch her though. The way her hair hung so delicately on her shoulders, like a perfect lace shawl, bouncing with each step. She had worn blue again, trimmed with white from Mirana's dressmaker, and dotted with gemstones that shimmered whenever they strolled into a ray of sunlight. He'd admired her beauty, from up close, but more often, from a distance.

An appealing appearance was not the only thing he loved about her. For him, she was "muchness" itself. Everything about her was vibrant and radiated from her person in a manner that inspired others; indeed, inspired him.

The first time she came to Underland, he'd seen a little girl with immense promise, a possible future queen. Someone who would come to tea parties between sessions at court.

When she had come back again, he was not prepared for her. He was expecting a girl who would eagerly take up the Vorpal sword in defense of Marmoreal and all the others. Instead, he'd had the great privilege of watching a subdued, odd, Not-Alice, blossom back into the old Alice. His dearest old friend next to Mally and Thackery.

Over her last visit, something had changed. He could only speak for himself of course, but he wondered. Every now and then, she would turn and look over her shoulder at him, smiling warmly. It made his heart skip a beat.

Between her longing backward glances and the playful dancing of Margaret as she walked alongside her mother, he was determined to talk with Alice, privately.

Midway through the journey, they halted to rest in a very familiar looking garden and look for food. Mostly uneventful, they all lounged about in a small clearing. As they fed on whatever vegetation they could find that did not have the ability to speak, Tarrant was biding his time. She said she would stay for Margaret and for him, but he must tell her soon. He did not wish her to stay with certain expectations of him, especially when they were not the same he had of her.

He walked carefully over to Alice and Margaret and tipped his hat to his daughter, "May I borrow your mother for a minute?"

"Only if you promise to return her quickly." Margaret grinned and wandered over to converse with Mally and Thackery. Perhaps she understood what was happening.

Offering his arm to Alice, he inquired if she would like to take a walk around the garden with him. She accepted without any concern, eager at the opportunity to speak with him away from the others.

Valoren and Chessur watched as the pair strolled away down the path, until they were out of sight. Most likely, they were expected to keep an eye on the precocious Margaret until her parents returned.

For the first few minutes of the walk, they were embedded in an uncomfortable silence.

"What did you want to talk about, Hatter?"

"I-" He was quite plainly flustered, she could see that, "I want to talk about you. And me. And you and me."

"Us, then?" She had a little smile on her lips, but was unable to meet his eyes.

"There doesn't have to be an "us" if you don't want it to be."

"I disagree, there is already an "us." I call her Margaret." A light laugh followed, filled with nervousness.

"Would you ever consider me? Independent of her?"

There it was. She went back in time, her memory retreated seven years. She was nineteen again, a vial of Jabberwocky blood in her hand. In front of her, a man with pained and hopeful eyes, close to begging her to stay.

That scene had replayed itself in her mind, nearly once a week since she had left Underland for the second time.

A million thoughts must have crossed her mind at that very moment. How did she feel about the Hatter? Why had she been so happy to discover Margaret was his daughter as well as her own? If she had stayed, would Margaret have ended up in existence anyway? Would they have made out to be only friends? What would they have made?

He must have grown impatient, for such a person he was, and his face began to show signs of concern, "Alice?"

"Yes," She ran her tongue over her lips to wet them, "I'm fine."

"Would you possibly ever, consider me?" He took off his hat and held it in both hands by the brim, turning it like a ship's wheel.

"Consider you?"

"I want you to stay," He whispered, "But I'm sure that you will despise me if you stay while I keep secrets. Secrets will never keep, you know, they run from place to place until the exact wrong person finds them."

"And I am the wrong person." Murmured Alice.

"No, you're the exactly right person, the exactly right Alice."

She remembered something that had happened, had been happening for nearly all seven years of Margaret's life.

"Teapots."

Hatter looked utterly distressed at this, "Teapots? You want to throw a tea party, now?"

"No, I could never touch them."

He merely looked at her face, confused.

"Ever since I left Underland, I could never have tea properly. My maids always had to brew the tea and serve it to me."

Agitation in his eyes was surely growing, but he did not know what to say to her.

"They made me think of you."

"But you said you couldn't touch them?" He began to look back and forth from her face to the ground, "Does that mean you don't think you could ever, you never would, never could, wouldn't even consider – "

Alice stopped him by placing her hands on either side of his face and holding him steady, "Hatter." Her voice seemed very small to him. She stood up on her toes, and closing her eyes, pressed her lips against his.

Tarrant was taken completely by surprise and his body went rigid at her touch.

After only a moment, she drew back, "I couldn't touch them, because it was too hard to have everything that reminded me of you, and to not have you as well."

"Oh." He exhaled arms at his sides; he had the answer that he'd hoped for.

"Are you alright?" Wide curious eyes stared up at him.

Another minute or so passed, and then the realization of what happened finally dawned on him. The Hatter grabbed Alice about the waist and kissed her. She gratefully returned the kiss, holding onto him tightly. After waiting seven years, neither of them was willing to let this moment be over with so quickly.

Unfortunately, they were not as in control of the events as they would have liked.

"Cease and desist immediately!" An order was barked from nearby.

They each opened their eyes and looked around, only to find the spears of three armed guards pointed directly at them.

"White knights?" Asked Alice.

"Alice Kingsley and Tarrant Hightopp?"

Hatter gulped visibly.

"By order of the White Queen, you are being taken into custody for past crimes against Underland."

One of the guards roughly pulled Alice out of Tarrant's grasp and proceeded to bind her hands.

"Ye don't wanna be doing that." She recognized his brogue beginning to come out and before she could do anything, a guard hit the Hatter over the head with the butt of his spear. He lost consciousness and crumpled to the ground.

"Where is the White King?" Asked one of the guards, holding a spear-point to Alice's throat.

Alice realized that they must not have discovered the small group nearby. Using the guard who was holding his hands for leverage, she kicked the guard threatening her and knocked him to the ground. The one that held her was caught off balance and toppled to the ground, taking Alice down with him.

At the very top of her lungs, Alice screamed, "Run!"

With her free feet, she tripped the final guard so that he fell over the first. She hoped that they had heard her.

Valoren stood up quickly at the noise. He instantly reached for a weapon, only to find himself disarmed.

Chessur looked over at the White King and they nodded. The cat vanished from sight.

Leaping over the path, Valoren picked up Margaret and threw her over his shoulder. Without speaking, he motioned for everyone else to follow.

The party took off in a mad dash through the garden of Crims, having little choice other than to head straight for the Red Queen's castle.

Margaret was in a state of shock as she was hustled away by the group. Too surprised to protest, she could only stare helplessly at the place where she had last seen her parents.

She hoped it wasn't the last time she would see them.


	10. 9: Plans for Tomorrow

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 9: Plans for Tomorrow

9: Plans for Tomorrow

Author's Note: Thank you to all readers and reviewers! Please review, it helps me!

And a very special thank you to those who found the hidden reference in the last chapter!

Alice had little to do but dwell on the indignity of her situation. If she worried anymore, she feared giving herself an attack.

The incompetent guards, or perhaps, just those that were loyal to monarchs only in their right minds, dragged Alice and Tarrant to Salazen Grum. Despite her cry for the others to 'run,' the guards had not attempted to investigate just who she had been speaking to. Further more, they had been rather careful with the Hatter, even after having knocked him about the head.

He finally came to as they were at the gates of the castle. With half-opened eyes, he gazed up at the red building, "Alice? Have I gone mad? This looks awfully familiar."

"No, I'm afraid we've been captured."

Letting his head roll back, he sighed, "I'm terribly sorry."

"It's not your fault."

"Where are the others?"

"I don't know."

The doors to the throne room creaked loudly as it complained of neglect. They were unceremoniously pushed into the hall.

It was an unusually slow march to the throne, or maybe it just seemed that way. Hatter wanted desperately to take Alice's hand in his own, but was restricted by the bonds placed on both of them.

Mirana's form gazed down upon them. It was clear that Iracebeth had taken complete control. Her bright and loving eyes had grown dull and hateful, indeed her entire being seethed with anger.

"Alice!" She had a false enthusiasm to her that was sickening to behold, "And – " Iracebeth paused, unable to remember him at first, "The Hatter?"

"A milliner actually." He laughed at her.

"Silence!" It was a shriek that rang about the hall.

The young woman and her Hatter looked at one another.

"Why have you come back?"

"I didn't, I was brought here."

"By whom?"

"I don't know."

The queen's eyes narrowed and she turned to him, "Did you bring her back?"

He shrugged and rolled his eyes, "If I had that kind of power, we wouldn't be having this conversation right now."

There was malice in him that matched her own. That damned man was always, had always been, defiant of her. She would be sure to destroy him on this go around.

"Where is the White King?"

Alice shook her head, "We don't know that either, he left us."

She knew she was persisting in a fruitless line of questioning, "What about your daughter?"

Hatter could not remain silent, "Even if we knew where she was, we'd never tell you."

"What kind of parents don't know there whereabouts of their own child? Pretty poor indeed!"

His eyes flickered, enraged, "You're nothing but some frumious usurper! Useless, lying, murdering, scurvish – "

Two of the Red Guards stepped in to restrain him, pulling him back as he shouted a string of Outlandish curses as the imposter queen.

For one of a few times in her life, she was trying to hold her temper in. It was effective for only a few minutes before she shook Mirana's white scepter at the man. Her own red one had gone with her physical body into the Outlands.

"Both of you! Tomorrow, off with your heads!"

Alice raised her eyes, a tad fearful and yelled towards him, "Hatter!"

It took him a bit longer than usual, but he came back to his senses.

Iracebeth turned Mirana got up from her throne, her tiny body trembling with rage, "And just so you don't think that the Cheshire cat is going to save you again, either of you, you both will be executed at the same time. Guards! Take them to the prisoner's tower!"

With two guards apiece to them, they were hauled bodily and roughly out of the throne room.

"Put me down!" Margaret was most certainly, not pleased. Valoren had insisted upon carrying her as the entire group ran out from the garden of Crims and back into another forest, "We have to go back and save my parents!"

"It's a little late to do that." He practically skidded to a halt and finally set her down.

"If you won't do it, then I will!" She turned on her heel and began to run back to the garden. Bayard caught her by her dress with his teeth and hauled her from the path.

"I promised your parents that I wouldn't put you in harm's way," He was pacing, "And so did you, I might add."

"I did not."

"You lied to your mother?"

"I never promised."

Out of breath from the run, Thackey had barely enough energy to throw himself on the ground and laugh uncontrollably.

Mally smirked, "She's their daughter alright."

"Why does everyone keep saying that?" Margaret threw up her hands, "Of course I am!"

"Stop it!" Valoren waved his hand, "We need a plan and we need weapons."

"I've got my sword!" Mally waved the shiny little instrument.

"You have a hatpin." The White King raised an eyebrow at her.

"I'll have you know that this sword has cut out the eye of the Bandersnatch."

"Alright, you have a sword then. We still don't have a plan."

"We must bring the White Queen back to her senses." McTwisp spoke up, "Only she can control the armies."

"Very true. How long until the Red Queen Perspective wears off?"

They all gazed at one another, uncertain. No one had ever taken so much of it, nor been as open to others as Mirana was. It was quite an unpredictable and volatile combination.

Sighing, the White King sat down on a fallen tree. Dusk was setting in, bringing with it the knowledge that would either have to rest, or fall prey to their own failings tomorrow.

"Let's hide in the forest tonight, we'll agree on a plan, and tomorrow, we will save Tarrant and Alice."

Margaret was not satisfied with this, but she had no other options at this point. Underneath the watchful eye of everyone else, she helped the others set up a hidden camp.

It had become clear to Alice and the Hatter that the White Guards were obedient to their ruler; they were not in agreement with her entirely. Did not trust that she was who she said she was, and the constant references to Iracebeth did not help her with them.

The original order had been to place Alice in a cell and the put the Hatter in another cell, far across the room from one another. Knowing that the queen would never appear to verify that her orders had been followed, the guard had allowed them to be placed in the same area of confinement.

With not a bench, nor table, nor any type of furniture available, the pair sat upon the cobblestone ground. It chilled them, but gave them the opportunity to be in one another's arms.

She sighed, "At least Margaret isn't here." There was a pause as they took comfort in that fact, "My mother once told me that I should try to find the good in every situation."

"Good doesn't come to places like this," He held her close, "She hates them. They're far too cold and damp."

"Oh." Alice looked at his face as best she could. Something in him reminded her of when he had been brought into the throne room where she had been posing as Um from Umbridge. Hatter was entirely dejected; the color practically dripped away from him form as if someone has thrown water on a fresh painting. Realization swept over her. He had only known Margaret for a day or so, she had been given several years with her daughter. For all these years, he had been alone, without her, and she had lived with the company of their daughter in relative peace. How could she even reasonably expect him to have any hope when he was staring death in the eye only having just met his last living kin?

Having been deprived of everything to do with them, he was now to be deprived of his own life. It was unfair.

"Only things that begin with the letter 'D' come here."

"Hmm?" She was caught off-guard.

"Despair, desolation, darkness, dejection, dire."

Alice could have taken up crying if she had not been so strong a person, "Determination?"

"I don't remember him very well, you know, he might not be able to come and save us."

She understood he was speaking of Valoren, "He may, and if he doesn't," A rather odd thought entered her head, but in his current state, she hoped he might find some disturbing comfort in it, "How many other couples get to die on the same day? We won't have to watch, or be alone, knowing that the other one has died and we did not save them."

He actually chuckled a bit, "Depressing thoughts, Alice, that's naughty of you."

"I feel a bit cheated."

"Why is that, love?"

Leaning her head back slightly, she kissed his chin, and traced the line of his jaw with her delicate lips. They next kissed upon his cheek before she brought them close to his ear, "As much as I have to thank Mirana for Margaret," She kissed the small lobe, "I wish she had let us come to a more, natural, outcome."

Tarrant blinked his green eyes, once, twice, before he gave a quick shake of his head, "I'm afraid I haven't heard you correctly."

"Have you ever thought about it? Dreamt of it?"

"A million times over, lass." Again with the brogue, but this time, she readily welcomed it.

"Ever since I found out about our daughter, I've been a bit, put out, that you weren't there when she was born, or created. It hurts all the more, being that I've been in love with you for so long."

He held her close, bringing her in front of him, "I love you too, Alice, more then I can possibly say."

They regarded each other for a moment. Her mind was clouded, she only knew what her body wanted and she was entirely ready to give into it. Kissing him hungrily, greedily, her hands grasped the collar of his jacket and pulled him flush against her body.

The Hatter was not a foolish man, mad of course, but he knew a good thing.

His own hands gripped her waist, holding her so tightly that she could not even entertain the idea of getting away from him. Everything in him wanted to possess her, lay her down on the floor and show her what he'd been dreaming of for the past seven years.

"Ahem."

Tarrant groaned out in frustration, looking up from where he and Alice were so entwined. Across the room, he noticed a Bishop-headed white guard, "Yes?"

"While I do not object to your actions," The guard was clearly flustered, "I am unable to leave the room."

"You cannot step out in the hall?"

"There are red guards in the hall. If they find a reason to come in here, they may separate you." It seemed as though the guard bowed to Alice, even in such a compromised position, "My Champion, I can only do so much for you."

Alice looked up at the stuttering man, and she thought that if he had eyes in the traditional sense, they would probably be averted from her form. She looked at the Hatter, whose own eyes seemed to have softened in understanding.

"I would rather just be able to sleep in your arms, than risk being taken away."

He smiled, resigned but content, "I agree."

"What is troubling you, your majesty?" The Duchess watched as the White Queen wandered around her old throne room, apparently deep in thought.

"I want to capture that Margaret," She raised and brought the scepter down on the soft part of her palm, "Control the daughter, control the parents."

Considering, the Duchess had very little to offer, "The guards will be of no help, as we have already seen."

"Yes, we must bring her to us then."

"Valoren will not allow her to come on her own, your, I mean, your sister's husband is an honorable man. I would not be surprised if he had already sent her back to the Otherland."

"Hold your tongue!" Hissed Iracebeth.

Once again, the court was silent, the only other person in the room that would dare speak, would not.

"Wait!" Iracebeth halted, "I want a proclamation issued. I want bills posted all other the Tulgey forest and the garden of Crims, I want them posted as far as the eye can see!"

Eiron understood that it would be him doing the writing, posting, and ultimately proclaiming, so he stepped forward, "Yes, my lady?"

"Post that the traitors to the crown, Alice of Otherland and Tarrant the Mad Hatter, are to be executed tomorrow in the afternoon. I want them all posted before dawn!"

Trying to muffle his sighs, the manservant left to make up the large paper bills.

"Excellent plan, your majesty, but why not tomorrow morning?"

"Because," Iracebeth spun around, "It gives them time to see the bills and to get into the castle on some foolish rescue attempt."

"And if they don't?"

"Then I can take my afternoon tea while my two least favorites lose their heads!"

Thank you for reading! Please review!


	11. 10: Muchness

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Part 10: Muchness

Part 10: Muchness

Author's Note: After looking over recent response to this story, it seems that the numbers have decreased, in terms of reviews, favorites, and alerts. I really appreciate all of you who do review on a constant basis, and I want to encourage anyone who reads, to review. When reviews drop, I have to assume that it is because people are no longer reading or no longer like the story.

Please review; it's the only motivation for me to continue this story!

"By Order of the White Queen:

Hear all; the traitors to the crown,

~'~,~(0)

Alice Kinglsey of the Otherland

and

Tarrant Hightopp the Mad Hatter

~'~,~(0)

Are to be put to death

By beheading on this day,

The Carendush Day,

When the hour strikes four

Brillig; In the Afternoon.

~'~,~(0)

Cakes and tea to follow

At Salazen Grum and by the

Good graces of the Queen."

Margaret had only been awake for half of an hour, at best perhaps. She had found the bill, nailed to an aching and groaning tree at the edge of the forest. Her little breaths began to come too fast for her, and she had to lean back against another oak. With her lower lip trembling, she tried to regain control of herself.

'_Perhaps today is not the Carendush Day,'_ she thought to reassure herself, but she could only fool her own mind for so long. There was no sense in believing the queen to be anything but a cruel and calculated monarch, bent on the destruction of her family.

She had to save them, as soon as was humanly possible. It would be easier if the Cheshire cat would simply just get involved, but the flippant feline was not interested in sticking his neck out again.

Indeed, Margaret had no idea why her parents maintained a friendship with someone who was so unwilling to be fully joined to their side and cause. He must be good for a laugh, she mused.

As she ran back to the small secluded camp, she found herself growing more and more angry. How dare the queen demand that her parents be murdered simply because she was in a snit about something from the past? And furthermore, how dare she decorate such a bill of death with little red rose designs as if she were being cute? Margaret wanted to snatch those little drawings right off the paper. To treat the impending death of her mother and father with such carelessness; it made her furious.

If Valoren would not help her, then surely she could call the dormouse into her service. Mally always seemed to be ready to be roused into a good battle!

The first thing that came into his consciousness was the sensation of a warm body pressed against his own. Tarrant allowed his hands to feel ahead of him, caressing first a warm shoulder. He felt down to a small waist and allowed his fingers to grip there a moment. Next he traced a warm hip, over it and down to a supple thigh. The fabric, the sheer lace, kept his hands from gaining access to the bare skin of his lover that he so desired to touch. Had he privacy, he might be so inclined to work the satin up her thigh and trail kisses there, instead of his fingers.

Alice had never woken up to such pleasant ministrations to her body. Her back arched, in much a similar fashion to a luxuriating cat, and she moaned out in pleasure. Knowing who it was that dared to touch her in such a fashion; she closed her eyes and imagined herself in a rather immodest state, with not a stitch of clothing on. Those fingers, with their bandages and thimbles, it was a dream she had been in before, and it culminated in her waking, covered with sweat and breathing hard.

A free hand brushed against the cold stone floor and she was brought back into reality. With much hesitation, she opened her eyes and sadly gazed upon the glum surroundings of the tower cell.

"Hatter?" She whispered his name and he sat up, looking down at her reclining form.

"I was so hoping that I would wake up somewhere else."

"If you were someplace else, you wouldn't be with me."

"Very true."

"My lady?" The white bishop-headed guard was standing at the bars.

"Yes?"

"I am to inform you that the queen has decided the time of your execution to be four in the afternoon."

"What?" Alice got to her feet; Tarrant was not far behind her.

"Her majesty wishes to execute you while she takes her afternoon tea."

"Lovely." Grumbled Alice, she walked away from the bars, "She wants to make us wait?"

"She wants us to suffer." Tarrant murmured, coming behind her and embracing her to him. For a small moment, both of them just stared off into the distance of the dungeon.

"If mother was still alive, she would be very disappointed in you!"

"And if father was alive, he would be upset with you for not fighting harder, sister." Iracebeth's inner voice responded to Mirana's. Only in the morning hours did it seem like the conscious of the White Queen had enough power to forcibly argue with the Red.

"No, I very much believe that he would be upset with you for killing him and mother."

"They never proved that!"

The tactics switched, "Can you not just send them all to the Otherland? Send them back and close the doorway, we have had enough bloodshed in this kingdom."

"No! They must be punished for what they did to me!"

"What they did to you? You tried to have them killed, they fought back, and it is a common response as such."

"They should have just let me take off their heads; it would have been much easier on all of us."

"I swear," Mirana was exasperated, "Your mind is only about five years old, at the very best. Child."

"Silver-tongue."

"Brat."

"Goody-good."

"Fool."

The Duchess had been standing in the corner, observing the Red Queen. As there were no handmaids to the Red court, she stood in their place. The White maids could not yet be trusted and were confined at Marmoreal anyway.

The head of the White Queen twitched back and forth with each successive speech, but since the Duchess could not hear them, she was quite worried that her monarch was having an attack of the mind.

"My lady?"

Mirana's form whipped around, "What?"

"Are you alright?"

"She should be gone by now."

"Who, my queen?"

Iracebeth in Mirana's body merely shook her head, "Nevermind."

"My my, someone is in an awful hurry."

"Chessur?" Margaret turned around and looked at where she believed the voice had come from.

A large pair of disembodied eyes blinked at her, "If the White King knew you had strayed so far from camp, he'd be upset."

"Are you going to tell him?"

"I have no interest in what either of you two do." Now came a mouth with teeth, many of which were small, but numerous.

"The Red Queen is going to kill my parents at four o'clock."

"Really? That's awfully late in the day for her; she usually loves a good morning execution. The first time she tried to kill your father; it was a bright sunny morning."

"The first time?

"Yes, he helped your mother escape and the Red Queen sentenced him to death. Of course, she didn't exactly get him though, as you well know. I saved him, in exchange for getting to wear his lovely hat."

"But I don't have a hat to give you."

"Of course not, and I don't have any help to give you."

"You won't help me?"

"I cannot, this time, I can merely offer advice."

"Alright," Margaret sized up the feline, hands on her little hips, "What would you do if you were me?"

"Well, I certainly wouldn't act like me, and I wouldn't do what Valoren would, or Mally, and certainly not Thackery, that insane hare."

"You are confusing me."

"I would act like you," The furry head floated around the young girl, "You certainly know what you want to do, don't you?"

"I want to rescue them."

"Then do it. The White Rabbit has a little potion that will make you as small as the dormouse, which is, conveniently, about the size of some of the cracks in the castle walls." The air around her seemed to slide and twitch, "But you didn't hear that from me."

With no ceremony, he was simply gone from sight. Margaret stared after him for a minute before deciding that the cat, though useless as an accomplice, was quite good for information. She snuck back into the camp where the rest of the parties still slept, despite the ever-rising sun.

Gingerly, she approached the dozing White Rabbit. He twitched, his hind legs jumping rapidly. She observed him, noticing that there appeared to be something in his waistcoat pocket. For once, she was glad of her tiny little hands.

A cursory glance around told her that all others were still asleep and she leaned over McTwisp. Her small fingers darted into the pocket without disturbing him and they plucked out a small clear bottle.

Looking at the label, '_Drink Me_,' she muttered, "How foolish is that?"

McTwisp yawned, and Margaret stuffed the bottle into her dress pocket. It was all for naught though, as he merely turned himself over, smacking his furred lips and clacking his teeth.

As fast as her feet would take her, she scurried from the camp and back to the edge of the woods. Keeping as close to the forest as she could and still follow the path, she continued in the direction they had been going yesterday, assuming that this was the proper direction. The more barren the landscape became, the more she felt that she was right in this decision.

It was not long before she reached the end of the woods, and had to duck back into the brush and trees to avoid being easily seen. From this point forward, she would have to be very careful.

The little bottle seemed so very odd to her, but she had no other choice than to remove the cork, which pulled free with a tiny popping noise. It smelled awful.

"I suppose I should." She put it to her lips and sipped a small amount, unsure of how much was necessary. If it smelled awful, it tasted truly vile and she gagged, dropping the bottle. The Pishalver formula spilled all over the ground.

"Oh no!" Margaret dived down to retrieve the bottle, but the material had been lost.

Closing her eyes and pressing her palms to her cheeks, she stood back up. Only to find out that she stood not very tall at all anymore. Maybe she was as tall as Mally, or about the same height, she couldn't be sure. However it was, if she felt like a small girl in an unusually large world before, she was now an ant in the hanging gardens of Babylon.

"Goodness!" She turned around, "Chessur wasn't joking."

"Of course I wasn't."

He was back again, "Come on now, I'll show you the way in, but beyond that, you're on your own. I can't stay in that castle, it gives me the creeps."

Though mostly invisible, he led her over the long stretch of land to the moat of Salazen Grum. Mirana had ordered, upon her sister's exile, that the heads be removed for the sake of the aesthetic of the place. The thick, reddish water of Margaret didn't want to know what, still filled the dank and dingy hollowed out earth.

Fortunately, the years of neglect had fostered the growth of cattails and weeds, not to mention the convenient lily pad or two. She was certainly not lacking in the "muchness" that her mother had gifted to her.

Once on the other side, she rested a moment on the grass. The cat drifted around her, "Get inside, go to the tower, they'll be kept there."

The little girl nodded.

"Good luck."

Valoren was in a full panic. Where on earth had that precocious little girl gotten to? If her parents managed to avoid the block, they might place him upon it should he fail to produce their child.

Nearly the entire party had been searching as discreetly as they could, but the ability to call out for someone was essential and they lacked it.

McTwisp was hyperventilating faster than usual. Having discovered that the Pishalver had been lifted from his possession, he was taking special care to look every time before putting down his enlarged feet. He was so afraid to reveal this that he stuttered whenever anyone walked past him until someone finally noticed.

"McTwisp? What's wrong?"

"The Pishalver is gone!"

"What?"

"I think Margaret may have taken the Pishalver."

The White King thought about it, "Why would she? And how did she find out about it?"

"Maybe a little bird told her."

"Or a Cheshire cat." Harumphed Mally, pointing up to a bare tree branch with her hatpin sword.

If Chessur was there, he was certainly not making his presence known, either by speech or glimpse of fur.

Thackery started off in the general direction of the Red Queen's castle, "Rescue." He mumbled like a madman. He was pulled back.

"I was afraid of that."

"What should we do?"

"I don't have any more Pishalver." The rabbit threw up his hands.

"Let me think, please."

Sneaking and slinking along walls was not part of the training or upbringing Margaret had received from her dear mother. Neither was stealth nor secrecy, in truth, but due to her unusually small height it was quite easy for her to move about. She felt as though she were a tiny little mouse, attempting to steal crumbs from the pantry whilst a giant tabby cat prowled nearby.

One of her instant observations of the scene before her told her that the Red Guards were preoccupied with redecorating the castle or running after Iracebeth's trivial requests. The White Guards seemed as though they were biding their time, and she wondered if they were not simply just hoping for their White Queen to reappear.

It took her a good amount of time to cross the distance from the wall to the large, padlocked door that led up into the prisoner's tower. Not too far away was a large stone patio with a raised platform, the executioner's venue. It would be quite easy to drag the condemned one to their death in only a few minutes, and she shuddered.

Staying back and hidden away, she pondered her options, and realized that she might possibly have some trouble climbing the stairs when she was too short to jump them.

A white guard approached, carrying a tray of food, and she decided to assume that it was meant for her parents. With a few quick glances back and forth, she made for a quick dash and took a leap of faith.

Luckily, she landed well and clung to the guards boot undetected. Holding on for her very dear life, she hoped that she remained undetected as he made his way up into the tower.

Without the benefit of a window, Alice and Tarrant were left to imagine the hour of the day. Despite the presence of the guard, a fact that both of them were lamenting still, he was rarely allowed to leave and check the time.

During the night, at moments when the guard appeared to be asleep, they had made every attempt at intimacy, but fell short of success. It was a pain in Alice's heart that she could not get close to him in the way she so wished she could.

It was in the middle of a thought like this that she felt guilt. Why had she left Margaret and the others? Why had she not instantly sent Margaret back to London when they had been reunited at Marmoreal? There were no answers that were sufficient.

A knock sounded on the heavy wood prison door and the guard opened it to allow another into the room. This second guard was carrying food for the two condemned persons, and he handed it off to the on-duty Bishop-headed one before turning and exiting as quickly as he could. Many of the guards were holding to a shame that they could not express; as they confined the Champion of Underland unjustly. Unlike the Red Guards, the Whites were only playing this game for the first time.

After the door was closed, the Bishop sighed and gazed down at the ground, "Who are you?"

Margaret froze; supposing that having to nearly throw herself from the other guard to avoid being swept out the door must have attracted his eye.

"No, no one?"

"Are you sure?"

Tarrant and Alice walked over to the bars, peering to see what tiny creature was speaking. He held out a hand to the little one, and coaxed them, "I'm not going to hurt you, I promise on my honor as a servant of the White Queen."

The guard approached the cell with a tray of food in one hand and something else in the other, palm flat and brought to eye level, "Would this be yours, by any chance?"

The parents were instantly elated and crushed; Margaret was in the tower of Salazen Grum.

"Hello sweetheart." Tarrant held out his hand to take her from the guard. Margaret carefully climbed from the white armor covered fingers to her father's own bandaged hand.

"What are you doing here? I told you to go back to London if anything happened to us."

"I will not! I'm supposed to just run back to Grandmother and hope that I don't become an orphan?"

Alice sighed, "Dear – "

"No! I wanted to try and save you."

With a single finger, Alice reached forward and brushed some of Margaret's unruly orange hair back, "I hoped that you would get my 'muchness,' but I am very scared for you."

"Don't be."

She looked over to Tarrant for support on her objections to their daughter's actions, and he seemed willing to give them, but resigned, "I don't suspect anything could have stopped you, love."

Margaret giggled the same odd, high-pitched tone as her father's and this earned her a harsh stare from her mother.

Staring over her child, Alice hailed the guard, "If we don't get out of here in time, will you please make sure she gets back to the garden of Crims?"

"As you wish." He nodded, and Margaret stared back and forth between them.

"The guard is on your side?"

"He is."

"Then why doesn't he just let you out of here?"

"I don't have the keys to the cell, only the queen has them. I think she suspects that not all of us are her dedicated slaves." Sighed the guard.

Tugging at the thimble on her father's hand to get his attention, she had an idea, "Let me try the lock!"

"That's a crazy idea!" He paused, "I absolutely love it!"

Lowering his hand, he angled his wrist to allow Margaret to stand directly in front of the keyhole.

She reached into the dark empty space, attempting to feel her way. The guard told her that a release latch was located inside, but he was not sure where.

For nearly a full minute, she simply pressed or pulled against every piece of metal that she came into contact with, part of her was terrified that something could slide back and simply cut off her hand.

Finally, on the far right side, she was able to move a peg. Snatching back her hand, she saved herself possible injury as the larger part of the lock suddenly unlatched and dropped down.

"You did it!"

Tarrant wanted to hug his daughter, but was terribly afraid to do so, instead he stuttered, "When we get out of here, I'm going to make you a hat, no, two hats! Perhaps three, it depends on how much material I can get and how fast!"

"Father! Let's get out of here first!"

"Quite right!"

The door to the jail cell opened and the Bishop-headed guard ushered them out, "Now, how do we get you out of the tower?"

Valoren had an idea. It was not one that was particularly smart, or safe, and he might very likely lose his head in the acting out of such an idea.

But what else could he do? He had to get inside Salazen Grum and there seemed to be no other option. To ask the others to stand in his own sted would be unfair to them. Watching Bayard and Bielle tend their pups and Mally and Thackery chitter and converse about tea had made up his mind. He was the outsider to all this, indeed in their own minds, he had already been dead for years.

Maybe Iracebeth would be expecting him, maybe she would not, but either way, he would be placing himself square in the path of her plans. In truth, if Mirana was too far gone, he did not have much to return to.

He had one last trick that he could try. A desperate search for weapons had revealed something that was unconventional and he could guarantee that no one would be anticipating it.

As he moved away from the rest of the group, he tried to be quiet in his approach to the castle gates. He raised his hands in the air, showing himself to be unarmed.

Two Red Guards ran up, spears raised, "Halt! Who goes there?"

"I'm Valoren, the White King."

The two guards looked at each other, surprised, "What do you want at the court of the Red Queen?"

"I'm surrendering myself; I wish to be taken to see the Queen."


	12. 11: My Last Request

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Part 11: My last Request

Part 11: My last Request

Author's Note: There are a few chapters remaining in this story, I've added three epilogue-like shorter chapters, and I have made the decision that this story will have an M rated chapter and I will mark it as such so no one reads it who doesn't want to.

I hope you'll all forgive the delay, we had to take a trip to South Dakota suddenly and I was separated from my PC for days.

Again, I ask for reviews, please feel free to comment on things that you liked or didn't like!

* * *

"Perhaps if we pretend that the guard is leading us out for the execution, we can sneak out of the tower."

"We'll fair better out in the open, there's no sense in staying here."

"But the others guards know that I don't have the key, it is possible that they will simply march you back into your cells."

"I want to get outside; I've escaped from here before! A diversion here, some trickery there, and we're out the front gate in no time at all!"

Alice smiled, "Perhaps you should ask time to help you, he may be rather offended that you won't be needing him during our escape."

"Time and I may have had our differences in the past, but I think he knows."

"Let me see how many guards are still out there." The White Guard peeked out the door and pulled his head back fast, flummoxed, "I don't quite understand, the reds are gone!"

"What?" Alice stole a quick look, "So they are, but why?"

"Something must be going on in the throne room."

"Let's work fast then." Alice plucked the tiny version of her daughter from where she had been sitting on the brim of Tarrant's hat and tucked her neatly into the laces of her shoe, "If we get caught, jump off and run back to the garden."

"But mother –"

"No buts! I will not have you lose your head as well!"

"Fine."

Taking another look around, the Bishop-headed guard led them out into the hallway. They took careful steps down the twisted stone staircase until they reached the door.

"I don't quite like this," Murmured Alice, "Something isn't right."

The White Guard opened the door to the executioner's area and stepped outside. All was quiet for a moment, perhaps the first time that it had ever been so in her experiences with Underland. Time was being cruel, and he slowed down the seconds that ticked so easily by at any other point in life.

"Come on." There was a whispered voice, and the escapees left the small room and emerged into the sunlight.

It was a beautiful day, and they felt their hearts rise a little despite the dire circumstances surrounding them.

"This way." The guard began to lead them across the yard, careful to keep all noise to a minimum.

Such efforts were really quite fruitless though, as a pair of chortling Red Guards decided to stray out onto the execution arena.

"Seize them!"

Hatter's face fairly fell, and he yelled out, "Run!"

The group took off, but the noise had alerted the others in the area who had been preoccupied with other tasks. There was a flurry of shouts, spears, and then a short stop. They could go no further; the sheer mass of guards that descended upon them was enough to cease efforts, especially with no Bandersnatch to save the day.

Alice sighed with severe frustration, "It's not fair!"

"If you're so eager to escape," One of the more authoritative reds stepped up, "Perhaps we can persuade the queen to move up your execution time."

They, and the newly imprisoned White guard, were hustled to the throne room with little ceremony. Alice wondered exactly what she had done to so offend luck that she was not working on behalf of Alice anymore. Fortune had been kind in the past, what had happened?

On her mother's foot, Margaret had slipped down, out of sight whilst the trio was led in a steady march back into the castle. Upon reaching the throne room, she jumped off and made for her old companions, the concealing walls. Keeping herself small, she ran along the sides while her parents strode up the middle of the room.

Every now and again, some brattish red guard would hurry or trip up her father, or the white guard. They were still rather tentative about laying hands on her mother, fearful of the champion even when she was imprisoned.

"What is the meaning of this?"

"My queen, we found the prisoners trying to escape, and this guard was helping them." The red who spoke put his foot into the back of the Bishop headed guard and kicked. The chess pieced man fell forward onto this stomach, roughly bashing his head against the floor.

"Oh!" Gasped a rather dismayed Hatter, cringing at the usual, rough treatments.

"Leave him alone, I ordered him to help us!" Alice was forceful in her approach.

"You are in no position to demand anything from me!"

Alice scowled, "Neither are you! You are not Mirana!"

"How dare you! Do you know what I'll do to you?"

"I don't know, perhaps, take off my head?" The Champion was sarcastic, already facing such a penalty; she was not in the mood to suffer idle threats from the petulant monarch.

Iracebeth's eyes narrowed, "Do not tempt me, Alice. There are fates worse than death, you know. How would you like to watch while I skinned the Hatter alive?"

The two women regarded one another, cold eyes burning into the others, unwilling to give an inch. Tarrant caught a glimpse of Alice at this moment, and he thought that it must be when an Otherlander was upset, their eyes turned black instead of gold.

Before either one could initiate the challenges again, a resounding knock sounded upon the chamber doors.

"What?" Screamed Iracebeth, and a tentative red guard stuck his head inside.

"My lady, we've captured the White King. He surrendered at the gates."

"If he surrendered, then you didn't capture him, you idiot – wait, Valoren? He's in custody?" She seemed shocked beyond all belief that her guards had done something correctly.

The doors swung wide and Valoren was brought in. He held up his head, regardless of the last few years of his life, he was still a king after all.

His eyes first found the Duchess, her rotund form seated next to the queen, still as vicious and gruesome as a fairytale monster.

"Hello son." She was giddy to see him in chains, even in his new, old state.

Valoren sneered at her and she seemed to play the shocked victim, "How could you do that your own mother?"

Staring straight into those hellish dark eyes his voice was the stillness of death itself, "You had better pray that she kills me, or I'll make Stayne's exploits look like those of a disobedient pup."

The Duchess would not let him see her in fear's clothes, and besides, Iracebeth had promised entirely to cut the man's head off before nightfall. She would sleep easily enough tonight, "Well, I beat you like a dog, so I suppose I shouldn't be surprised what you'd do if I let you off your chain."

"I'll see you in hell."

She only smiled down at the man she had once enchanted into being her son, she was quite sure she would see him there, eventually. Perverse family reunions and all that nonsense.

Alice and Tarrant, by virtue of the strong-armed guards who held them, could not turn around to see who had been brought in. Even though the guard had announced him, some part of them hoped against the odds that it was not Valoren himself. When his voice rang out, the ripple waves it created were the vibration that shattered this particular wish.

"Oh no." Murmured Alice, underneath her breath, which was quite a feat to do.

Tarrant strained his eyes to a light green as he kept them down, but flitting back and forth. He tried desperately to locate Margaret in the room. Quickly, a glimpse of blue near the column near the Duchess, a flash of orange hair blending into red walls, the faintest little peek of the pink skinned hands. Scared that he would be seen, he put his eyes back down to the ground. He would not betray his daughter's presence here, he simply would not!

The White King was brought up next to the couple, and all three shared a look.

"Valoren?"

He finally looked up the figure of Mirana that stood upon the platform before him. Why he had not done so until now dawned upon him the second that he saw her.

She stole the breath from his body and the words on his lips. Even with Iracebeth grasped in her eyes and manner, seeing his wife again was redeeming. In all his years as the son of the Duchess, his mind had been free from the knowledge that his beloved was so far from him, but the minute he had been returned to his original form, the weight of time pressed on his chest. Had he not already gifted his heart to Mirana, he was sure he'd have broken it right there.

"Mirana," Valoren gasped slightly, "My queen."

"Hardly." Hissed the White Queen's voice.

He steeled himself upon hearing this inflection; he must not allow his emotions to convince him that this was indeed his wife.

"Why did you surrender to me?"

"I wanted to make you a proposition." Taking a step forward, he ignored the guards who came a bit closer on his sides, "I know that you are planning to use Margaret as the second queen, and I have an alternative."

"What?"

"Myself. I'll be the second monarch, I'll go willingly. Just let them all go free to the Otherland and I'll stay in their place."

She didn't seem to consider his offer for too long, "I'd rather have Margaret, she's so much more, impressionable than you."

Alice had to bite her tongue; the Hatter began muttering Outlandish curses.

"Margaret is no longer an option."

"Why not?"

"The minute you captured Alice and Tarrant, I immediately sent her back to the Otherland. You have no choice."

Iracebeth shrieked in anger, "How dare you! I specifically picked her!"

Valoren shrugged, "Had you just left us alone, you probably could have captured her separately, but I'm afraid this is all just happenstance, as it were."

She scowled at him, and paced back and forth. He observed her behavior with curiosity, and deliberately softened the defiance that was on his face.

"Think about it, Iracebeth. Would you rather have that little girl, or me?" Another step forward, "A devoted second in command? A partner to control Underland?"

Her eyes narrowed at him.

"Don't think I didn't know. All those years ago."

"Know what?"

"I saw you spying on us. Watching from the windows while I courted your sister." He spread his hands as far as the chains would allow. Closer he came to her, but without her orders, the guards only dared approached so much, wondering what was happening.

"You didn't really love my brother, did you? My older brother was just – another way for you, right?"

She tilted her head and looked at him with a bit of understanding, but she still said nothing.

Although it stung his soul to speak of his dearly deceased brother in such a way, he continued, "He wasn't as good as me. Not as smart, nor handsome, and not as devoted to you as I was to Mirana. He wasn't me, was he?"

"No, he was not." Iracebeth in Mirana's body sat down upon her throne. By now, Valoren had made his way to the second step, and lingered there, keeping his eyes so trained upon her that he would not break such a gaze for all the world.

"I know you always wanted me. I know how much it hurt you to lose me to your little sister."

"It did." Sniffed the Red Queen.

He was shocked internally that this was working so well for him. Valoren knew that Iracebeth had always harbored a secret love for him, part of the jealously so entwined in a sisterly bond. It must have been that seeing him reappear so suddenly had done for her what seeing his wife's figure again had done for him.

Taking a knee in front of her, he pleaded, "Reconsider my offer, Racie." The use of her pet name was biting on her feelings, "Give me any perspective potion, I'll stay, I won't fight you. You can even give me the old Red King's perspective if you want. Just let the others go free."

Having the mental capacity of a tantrum prone child, she considered the offer. The man she wanted was offering himself, with no strings attached, to be her personal servant. On the other hand, she would be forced to allow those that she hated so much, to go free.

How desperately she wanted to take off someone's head!

Iracebeth just stared at the White King, on his knees in front of her, still as appealing as she remembered him. Her eyes began to soften slightly; she wanted what she wanted and when she wanted it.

"Majesty!" The concerned voice of the Duchess broke a palpable tension in the room. She hefted her large bulk up from the chair and walked toward them, her index finger extended towards him in an accusatory manner, "He's a liar! This is a trick!"

"How do you know?"

"He's been in my care for years now, and he's never been anything more than a sneaky and disobedient little child!"

"I'm no child. Iracebeth herself knows how devoted a man I am."

"I don't care!" The Duchess stepped between Iracebeth and Valoren, "Your majesty, he cannot be trusted! This is a trick of some sort, I'm sure of that!"

"Margaret is gone! What would you have me do?"

"I am already your devoted servant! I was loyal to you even when you were exiled. Let me be the second monarch."

The Red Queen considered this. She knew the Duchess well; the woman had her own motives in most every arena. So, when presented with two persons, both of whom were untrustworthy, which did she choose? How bad did she want to have Valoren all to herself? How easy would it be to use the Duchess and run her around by her own bulbous nose?

"Madame," The older woman leaned in close, "He will just try to control you. He will use your love for him to control you!"

That triggered something in her, she understood that. Her emotions had given into him far too easily; perhaps she would be better if he were eliminated entirely. Had she been thinking, she would have done the same thing to her sister. Besides, if Valoren was anything like his brother, he might leave her, and then she would only have to kill him to prevent such humiliation.

"I think you might be right, Duchess," She stood up, "Off with his head!"

Two of the guards, stepped forward, finally able to intercede on the strange situation. They grabbed Valoren by the arms and began to pull him away.

"Wait! I am a king; I am allowed a last request!"

"Halt!" Iracebeth held up Mirana's hand in a borrowed regal manner, "I'll grant you a last request, what is it? And bear in mind, I won't entertain anything too strange."

Valoren looked at the figure before him; his wife possessed was still his beautiful and loving wife to some part. Surely, Mirana must be in there somewhere, "My last request is a kiss."

The Red Queen's upper lip lifted slightly, confused, "You want a kiss?"

"If I cannot kiss my wife, my true wife, ever again, can I at least kiss the lips that I loved since the day I met her?"

Tarrant and Alice had been following this exchange with a great amount of interest and confusion. This new suggestion literally had them leaning forward as far as they could go before the guards pulled them back.

Suddenly, Iracebeth felt Mirana's presence in the back of her head. Her little sister's consciousness cried out against the notion, and she was fairly disgusted by the idea of her sister kissing her husband.

But Racie was nothing if not a cruel person. Mirana's protests, and her own selfish desires and lusts won out.

"You really want this?"

"With my whole heart." He looked genuinely upset, "I will never get to see Mirana again."

"Granted." She sat down again, "Guards, bring him forward."

Escorted carefully back up the step, Valoren contemplated what he was about to do. The situation could not have been more awkward, as he bent down to kiss the form of his wife.

Iracebeth took full advantage of it and kissed him back heartily, allowing her narcissism to believe that she was granting him some sort of favor.

He deepened the kiss, part of him enjoying the familiar feel that had been absent from him for years, and part of him disgusted to be pleasing what was essentially the Red Queen usurper.

Finally, he broke from her and stood back up, allowing himself to be walked back down the steps.

"You know, Iracebeth, your sister used to tell me that she believed you were an egotistical, spoiled child."

"I'm sure she thought of me that way." The Red Queen felt her hands tremble, but she ignored it.

"I don't think you'll have to worry about that quite so much anymore."

The shaking was growing worse, and the Red Queen raised her palms to eye level, where they were visibly convulsing, "What did you do to me?"

Valoren grinned, "A little Perspect-All, just to cure that little problem of yours."

She looked at him, noticing for the first time, that there was a bit of white powder on his lips.


	13. 12: A Long Way Down

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Part 12: A Long Way Down

Part 12: A Long Way Down

Author's Note: Wow! I received a ton of reviews right away for that last chapter, so thank you all very much! I finally broke 200! *happy dance!*

I have two more standard chapters, then about three epilogue-ish chapters. Please continue to read and review! Thank you!

Also, I would like to apologize; it appears that some of my formatting just "went away" on some earlier chapters posted here, so I am sorry about that!

And, I'm sorry this is so late. I'm a very distracted person; I took up drumming, the Japanese language and obsessions with another fanfic series recently. All good things, and all good for writer's block as well.

* * *

Valoren had a particular philosophy in his dealings with people such as Iracebeth. Shall the perfect then be the enemy of the good? For them, he would take what he could get; be it perfect, good, despicable...

Like his wife, whose personality was sometimes questionable as she tried to avoid crossing the line into her sister's evil state, he was an odd creature. Mirana had moments where she betrayed her love of power with the scent of buttered fingers; he was more open about deception.

And he was not sorry for what he had done.

The last thing the consciousness of Iracebeth saw was a devilish little smirk on those powder lined lips of his, "You always did let your emotions get in the way of your better judgment."

As soon as her eyes closed, however, he breathed a sigh of relief. He could not believe that his plan had worked so well, half of him had expected to be out on the chopping block by now.

Mirana's form swayed a bit; the convulsing of her limbs became slighter. Valoren, whose hands were still bound, jumped forward just before the tiny form crumpled to the ground. He was not able to catch her as well as he would have liked, but he did catch her and save her head from a bruise.

Inside her own head, the real White Queen could feel her consciousness, like a tiny bit of light, gaining strength. It grew and stretched until it filled her mind. It was a bit like fizzling; it fizzled out from her head and crackled around. Her fingers and toes tingled as she inhabited her own skin again. Much like a limb that had been pressed upon for too long, her body was waking up to its rightful owner and it felt rather strange in the process.

When those eyes finally opened again, she was staring straight up at a man whose very existence had been questioned for many years, "Valoren?"

He had a grin that would rival that cat's, "Hello Mirana."

"I thought you were dead."

With a smart raise of his eyebrows, he mused, "Enchanted, rather."

"Why did you not come to me? I could have helped you."

"If I had known, I wouldn't have stayed away for anything in the world."

A smallish pale hand reached up and caressed his cheek and he leaned into such a touch. His skin was nearly as light as his wife's, though maybe not so much so. Though his hands were not free, he seemed to hold those delicate fingers to his face by sheer force of will.

Buttered fingers be damned, live ones were so delightfully warm.

* * *

Mally bounced around the campsite, her hatpin sword waved out in front of her. Nivens, Bayard, Bielle, and a very distraught Thackery observed her with a bit of curiosity.

The March Hare shifted from foot to foot, his feet in agreement with her sentiment, his mind, not yet onboard, "Dormouse!"

"Well, I don't know about anyone else, but I'm not just going to wait around here for the king and Hatter to come marching back!"

"What about Alice?" The bloodhound was concerned, it is in the nature of dogs to be concerned.

The Dormouse harumphed, "Alice too." She folded her tiny arms, "I say we storm the castle!"

"With what weapons?" Bielle was concerned but practical.

"My sword!"

"You don't perhaps have one of those for everybody?"

"Share!" Shouted Thackery, pulling on his ears.

"Of course I don't."

"Then, how do we get in?"

She paused, "We could try the door 'round back."

"Wouldn't it be locked?"

"Yes, but I could get inside through the cracks in the walls and then you and Bielle could tunnel under the door with Thackery and Nivens."

"I suppose we could."

They all looked at one another; a nod was shared, as well as a sense of severe apprehension.

"Onward to Salazen Grum!" Cried Mally, thrusting the sword up into the air with the feel of a warrior.

"Mally!" Nivens curled closer into himself, "Keep it down, please!"

She shrugged and sheathed the blade, "If you can't stand the steam, McTwisp, then get away from the teapot!"

* * *

The Duchess was looking for a way out, an escape route, a quiet exit. Or perhaps a noisy one, so long as she got away.

When Mirana had fallen forward, Iracebeth purged from her system, she knew she had lost this battle. She merely felt fortunate that it was not her head bouncing down a flight of stairs.

As the White King and Queen were reunited on the steps of the throne platform, she rose from her seat, slowly, slyly, and slipped away, back towards the wall.

There was an escape route near her, a door that led to a tower. Perhaps climbing upwards was not the best way to go, but it was possible that she could hide there until nightfall and sneak away?

Suddenly she wished there was not so much of her to conceal. What she wouldn't give for a vial of Pishalver potion right now!

With careful steps, she moved further and further to the side until something odd stopped her. In front of her, yet hidden behind a pillar, was a tiny little girl. The little child was taking no notice of her, only peeking out at the scene in front of them, her little hands pressed to the red stone.

This child was oddly familiar, and she had never seen that bright orange of a hair color on any female. The light blue dress though, that was calling her memory. The Duchess was finally able to make the connection between the shrunken girl and her own recollections, even if she was only a few inches tall.

This was that horrid little vile beast that had stolen from her. Stolen her son, stolen her potions, and destroyed a perfectly good captive cell that she had painstakingly installed in her basement. An Alice-like creature. What had her son said? She was Alice's daughter?

The Duchess would be damned if she would let the brat of such a troublesome woman take any victory from her.

Margaret; that was her name and the elder woman sneered. It was time that someone got rid of her.

* * *

Bielle whipped around again and again. She spun faster, the collar of Thackery's coat clenched in her teeth. When, for all purposes, the mad hare should be screaming out in fear, he didn't. March merely clapped his paws together and laughed that insane, giggling laugh of his. Finally, she released him like a discus and he vaulted over the moat. He was still laughing, until he slammed into the castle walls and slunk down to rest on the ground.

"Sorry!" She called after him, cringing when she heard the thwump of the impact.

Thackery came to rest on the ground right next to Nivens, who was still rubbing the bump on his head. Mally had quite insisted that the White Rabbit be thrown first, lest he faint from the stress of anticipation. It was a legitimate concern, being that if he had fainted and fell short of the bank, he could easily drown in the murky water. Or so she said.

McTwisp mused that perhaps the dormouse might want to be rid of him. It wasn't his fault he had a nervous condition!

Bayard laid down his head on the ground and the adventurous mouse jumped upon his back to hold upon his collar. The two adult bloodhounds turned to their latest group of pups.

"Go back into the forest and wait there."

"We can't come with you?" The chorus of yips came back.

"Absolutely not, now go back to the woods." Bielle scolded.

The little group left, tripping over their own tails along the way.

With them gone, the pair looked at one another and then walked back to a good distance.

Digging padded paws in the grass and dirt, they both flexed blunted claws, "Hold on tight, Mally."

She complied, locking her arms around his collar.

Though they both would have liked to bay as they ran, they couldn't, and instead, barreled forth to the edge of the moat. With great leaps of feet and faith, both of the hounds cleared the thinnest part. They landed safely, albeit a bit too close to the two rabbits, who covered their eyes in defense. Keeping as quiet as possible, they walked over to the long forgotten door, which was still heavily bolted.

Mally took advantage of the erosion near the door bottom to slip underneath, "I'll go find out where they're keeping them, once you get inside, hide and wait for me."

With that, she was gone, and the four animals were left to dig out a space beneath the door large enough for them to fit through.

* * *

Alice breathed a sigh of relief when she saw the tender caress between husband and wife. Mirana was back, and what was more, she had a friend returned to her. Part of her remembered a scene like this. Perhaps she had seen a White King, way back upon her first visit; once in passing.

She let her arms fall limp in front of her, until another pair of hands grasped her own. Then her muscles tensed again, but in a perfectly wonderful way.

Hatter wasn't looking directly at her; he was still waiting upon the declaration from their newly returned ruler. As best he could, his hands were entwined with hers. Soft skin and rough skin, calloused fingertips and thimbles, hands worn from caring for the young and hands worked hard in skilled trade. They tightened upon hers as a white guard stepped up to assist the queen to her feet. Valoren could not reasonably do so, being still so bound.

With a distinct air of peace and calm about her, Mirana instantly raised her arms, and embraced her husband. She allowed herself to kiss him, gently, delicately, promisingly. Being in front of so many witnesses would not permit her to conduct herself as one would never imagine that the White Queen would. That would come later.

"My love, can you release us?"

"Hmm?" Her eyes flitted back and forth, searching his for some clues.

His only response was to raise his shackled arms to her giggling laughter, "Oh, I -" How lucky she was that her pale skin did not so easily blush!

Mirana began to look for the keys that were supposed to have been on her person, but seemed to have grown legs and scampered off somewhere. Keys were as temperamental as frightened mouse babes sometimes.

They were neither in her pockets, upon her throne, or lounging on the floor. It was when they were so quickly discovered missing, that the White King raised his eyes from the red stones to discover that someone else was missing.

Slinking around the final pillar, the Duchess looked up at the same moment that Valoren caught her very eyes. His eyes were ice, and all her earlier bravado was stripped from her being. There was no way to avoid the inevitable capture, and surely, the following execution. Mirana may have vows of peace, but her husband did not.

"Mother," With such a low tone emanating from his throat, "Wherever are you going?"

"I, I was-" She turned, and with that, the jangle of the stolen keys in her pocket rang forth, begging their rescue from her.

Letting her eyes wander, she found them upon the tiny figure of the little girl. The little girl had turned to see the commotion and was staring up, frightened, at the large figure behind her.

Margaret knew she had precious little time to run, let alone just will her limbs to move again! The Duchess had years of experience on her, and lunged forth, capturing her in her immense fingers. Such pressure on a tiny body was too much to bear, and Margaret dug her little fingernails into the soft flesh; she clawed and scratched for dear life. Indeed, she could barely breathe and panic was setting her mind on fire.

With one last act of desperation, despite her smallish stature, she screamed, "Mother!"

Alice heard her. Tarrant heard her. The King, the Queen, and all the guards, heard the plea.

Mirana raised her hand, "Let her go."

"I hardly think so."

"Let her go and you can leave here, unchallenged."

"Absolutely not!"

"You have my promise, on my very honor." The White Queen stepped forward, shifting her palm to face upward, begging for the small, suffering child to be placed upon it.

"I have your promise maybe, but do I have hers? When she is all grown up?" She actually shook the girl who was less than five inches tall in her anger, and both Alice and the Hatter began to move forward, violently terrified of what this monster might do.

"For that matter, do I have his?" With her free hand, she gestured to Valoren, "Your word is true Mirana, I know this, but can you keep that dog on his leash?"

"My lady," The voice of Eiron drifted through the crowd, "It is finished, give up the child."

The Duchess had never harbored delusions that her manservant was ever on her side, really, truthfully, but she hated him all the same for it.

"Please," Alice begged, her hand gripping Tarrant's so tightly he thought she might break it.

"Don' ya be hurting me girl." In fear, his brogue came through, "The little one did naugh' to ye."

Margaret was choking in her grasp, the sound reached her parent's ears and they cringed. How were they to play this scene? What could they bargain with?

"I'll go in her place," Offered Alice, taking another step forward, "I know that I'm the one you're upset with."

"No." The Duchess was sincere in her disdain for the Champion of Underland. Alice had betrayed the one thing that would upset her the most, and the Duchess had no qualms over exploiting it, "I can make you suffer."

Valoren made his first mistake, he moved only slightly toward her. She was startled, believing he was moving to kill her, and she made for the door to the tower.

A foolish move, she chided herself in her mind, damn foolish! Whether it was unlucky or not, she found the door to be open and pulled it from the latch, dashing inside. She slammed the door shut behind her and closed the interior lock. For a moment she leaned against the wall and breathed heavily.

Margaret was finally able to breathe again as her hand relaxed and she gasped for air.

* * *

Mirana was fairly shocked at the proceedings, having only just come back into herself, "Guards!"

The White Guards sprang to her side, relieved to finally be of service to their true liege again.

"Please, open that door, quickly, quickly!"

Bishop, Knight, and Rook headed guards went to work on the hinges.

Hatter paced back and forth quickly, balling his hands into fists, "These!" He jangled the chains, "These! Off!"

Mirana and Valoren looked about them, but no one was carrying a weapon of the strength needed to sever chains.

Where was that wretched Stayne when you actually need him? Hatter cursed that thought as his frantic mind came up with it.

In the corner a diminutive Eiron raised his hand, cautiously, wary of the madman who had access to large pieces of metal. History had taught him to steer clear of people that were in their wrong minds, and the abuse to his body by the Duchess proved the rule.

"Yes?" Valoren caught sight of him.

"I have the keys."

Nearly everything in the room halted at this declaration.

"You do?"

"I made replicas awhile back; I was hoping I would get the chance to escape sometime soon." He shrugged.

"That's good thinking." Nodded Mirana.

"Yes, 'tis. Now, will ye get these bloody chains offa me!" Scowled the Hatter, his eyes getting dangerously close to golden tones.

Mirana looked at the simpering servant and motioned with her eyes at Tarrant's less than patient form. Eiron sighed a bit and walked over, only slightly reaching out with the keys to avoid getting too close.

Once the locks were unbound, the upset man flung them at the wall where they cracked against the rock.

Eiron moved onto Alice, who held out her hands absentmindedly, her entire self focused on the guard's efforts to undue the door lock.

Those chains clattered to the ground with a hollow sound. Alice could hear it in her mind, that echo was in her own heart. She wished so dearly to be able to brandish the Vorpal sword again, to meet this foe in honorable combat. Some part of her felt as though the strength had been sapped from her and she was at the mercy of a creature that would threaten to break her very life in two.

Valoren was the last to be let free. He looped one of the cuffs through his belt so that they fell at his waist. In the absence of his formal sword, these might prove useful. He remembered that sword now, silver, with blue accents. Always for show and never for action, he sighed, that Jabberwocky had not returned to Underland before he'd met the wrong end of perspective potion.

The White Queen observed all that was around her with interest, especially Alice. She mused over the woman's strained expression and noticed it to be decidedly different than that day on the battlefield so many years ago. Not fearful, but helpless, and she thought that it must be a very different thing to step forward for one's own neck, than to step forward for those that one loves.

* * *

Mally's entrance into the main hall at Salazen Grum was slow going. The abundance of guards running about had forced her into hiding nearly every couple of minutes. If not against being noticed, than certainly against being stepped on and quashed into the dirt!

She approached the main building and looked all around her for any potential attackers. It stopped her fairly fast in her tracks. There was a woman in the tower adjacent to the hall, someone Mally had not seen nor heard word of since the end of Iracebeth's reign.

The Duchess, a member of both royal courts, though exclusively adhering to Red Policy, was climbing the tower. Mally watched her go through one window, then she appeared again in the next.

The Dormouse observed her continuing ascent, unaware that she was exposed for the entire world to see. All the world, and apparently, all the guards, did not give a second glance to her.

* * *

Allowing herself to relax as much as was possible, Margaret choked as she regained her air. Looking over the edge of the hand that held her, she saw that she was still too far up to simply hop down and make a run for it.

"Don't get any ideas, you little brat." Hissed the older woman, leaning in close.

"Let me go!"

"Not on your life." The Duchess looked upwards and then back at the door. The sheer force of the guard against the wood was beginning to force the heavy panels to bend and shake.

She began to make her way up the stone steps. In such a dismal space, the only light came from the various windows that wrapped around the circular path. With as much speed as could be mustered, she continued onward, step after plodding step.

"Where are you going?" Margaret kept asking, "There's no way to get out of this tower!"

The Duchess simply ignored her.

* * *

"Your majesty!" One of the white guards called out to the queen. Mirana looked over to see that they had finally loosened the hinges of the door and were pulling it free.

Alice ran towards the newly opened entryway, she shoved a few of the guards aside, others stepped away to let their champion through. Tarrant followed her lead, and stayed on her heels as they flew up the castle steps.

Valoren pulled Mirana to him and kissed her quickly, "I'm going after them. Please, stay here."

The White Queen was too shocked by the capture of her lips to respond to the request, and she merely stared at him with blank eyes. Her husband smiled at her, and without turning, ordered the guards to remain in the throne room. With that, he followed the agitated parents into the heights of the tower.

Mirana shook her head slightly. Staring from the doorway to the window, she realized she couldn't possibly see anything from here. The tower opened to an observation platform if it was the one she believed it was. And why shouldn't it be as she believed?

Taking her skirts in hand, she fled the court hall and tripped down the steps until she reached the open air of the main yard. Frantically, her eyes followed the tower upward until she saw the platform. She had to remember to force herself to breathe as she waited for something, anything, to happen.

* * *

The Duchess stumbled out onto the observation deck. She had been here before, watching executions and forcing herself to laugh at Iracebeth's petty temper-tantrums.

"Stop!" Alice, winded, was not too far behind her. The young mother took a deep breath, trying to restrain the urge to attack in favor of her better sense.

Preemptively, she held out her arm and caught Tarrant as he ran out after her, "Please, Hatter!" With her fingers dug into the fabric of his coat, she pleaded with him not to fly into madness. He was not brought back so easily, and remained somewhere between the man she knew and loved, and a dangerous opponent.

As Valoren came up the stairs, he halted before he was sure he could be seen, and waited there. He was not sure if his presence would only put the insane Duchess further over the edge of sanity.

"Please, let her go!"

"I already told you, you can't guarantee my life, and I am not interested in negotiating."

"Yer trapped. I donnae think even ye can get yer own safety."

He was right, of course. Behind her was a fall into the castle courtyard that no one would survive, and in front of her, an entire army of hostile persons; not including the two that she would initially have to get by.

She knew that she was not likely to get out of this situation alive.

Alice locked eyes with the woman, and looked into the cold gaze of a heartless creature. She had a gaze to recall the stare of the murderous Jabberywocky.

The Duchess raised the hand that held Margaret and showed her to her mother, "I told you, I can make you suffer."

Time was a curious thing in Underland, and as it was, it suddenly stopped for Alice. She felt paralyzed from everything, even thought, as the Duchess, in a most inappropriately casual manner, threw the tiny form of her daughter over the edge of the tower wall.

When she finally was able to move again, when time came back to her, she could only feel herself scream.

"Margaret!"


	14. 13: The Hat

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Part 13: The Hat

Part 13: The Hat

Author's Note: Originally the next chapter was going to be combined with this one, but I separated them to keep this one at a lower rating. So, yes, the next Chapter will be rated M, but I am considering posting two versions. A T and an M version if you want?

* * *

Alice's scream echoed around the entire castle of the former Red Queen. Every person there heard the agonized cry.

From her place in the back courtyard, Mally looked up and saw the arm of the Duchess fly back. Coupled with Alice's scream, the dormouse had only to make a short leap in her mind to reach the logical conclusion.

Clasping her hands to her mouth to avoid gasping aloud, the dormouse shut her eyes. She did not want to see what came next. She did not want to witness the daughter of her old and dear friend falling to her death.

It would be a full few minutes or so before she would trust herself enough to look again.

* * *

Tarrant had only a minute to think. His mad mind mulled over thousands of possibilities in very little time and he came up with a single idea that was so crazy, it just might work.

He barreled forward dangerously, ripping the hat from his head as he ran. The Duchess dived out of the way, afraid of being knocked over the ledge.

Alice, convinced that her Hatter was going over the edge after their child, followed him, "Tarrant!"

Nothing had torn his wild green eyes off the tiny figure of the child as she tumbled downward, away from them. With a flip of his wrist, he flung the ornate top hat after the little girl. It whirled downward, tilting and created a small buzzing noise as it flew.

In that moment, Alice looked beyond to see the castle pond and she discovered his plan. She lost sight of her daughter at time, and scurried to see if she could catch another glimpse.

The Hatter realized how close he was coming to the edge, and he pulled himself back as much as he was physically able. His feet kicked up spare bits of gravel and accumulated dust. With this arms stretched in front of him, he latched onto the top of the wall that surrounded the platform. It was not particularly tall, but he was particularly lucky to have caught it. At the very edge he stood, leaned out much further than any sane person would care to do, watching his hat fly through the air.

The Champion of Underland halted only halfway to him. She held her breath for a moment, un-desiring to go to the ledge, lest she see something that she would regret. Out of the corner of her eye, she did glimpse something else that caught her attention.

Back upon her feet, the Duchess was glaring over at the Hatter, indeed she was singularly focused on him. Alice watched as she started toward him, and the precarious position in which Tarrant was, became immediately apparent.

All it would take would be one decent shove to send the Hatter over the ledge with his own child.

Instinctively, the Champion reached for her waist, but found that the sword was not there. How she wished she had it! If she was going to save the man she loved, it would have to be with her own two hands. Only considering for a moment that she was but a fraction of the size of the woman known as the Duchess, Alice advanced.

"Don't you touch him!" She leaped, grabbing at the easiest item to latch onto. Closing upon the Duchess' hair and collar, Alice yanked backwards, throwing the woman off balance and causing a great deal of pain.

Alice mused on how her sister would react to this. When she was a little girl, her sister would instruct her that proper ladies do not fight with one another, especially not by pulling hair. Now was certainly not the time to be proper, and so she tugged harder.

Tarrant spun around, hearing the exclamation. He was not sure exactly how to intervene in the scene that he was confronted with. His Alice had the woman pulled back, collar tightened around her neck, hair stretched taught against Alice's fist. He was, in all honesty, impressed that she was restraining this monster with just brute force. It didn't look as though it would last much longer though.

She knew it too. Alice made a decision and was able to put her foot on the small of the Duchess' back. In one fluid motion, she released her hands and threw all her energy behind the kick. The older woman stumbled forward, unsteady on her feet and tumbled to the ground.

Unconcerned with her any further, Alice regained her steady feet and motioned for Tarrant to follow her, "We have to find Margaret!"

The pair dashed back down the stairs, passing by the White King as he stayed inside the doorway.

The Duchess got back on her feet and rested against the short wall, cursing the names of all those involved, their children and their children's children.

A noise caught her attention and she looked over at the darkened stairwell. Fear began a stranglehold on her throat as the figure emerged from the dark.

Valoren walked slowly, purposefully, out of the entranceway, "You just ran off without me. What kind of mother abandons her son?"

* * *

Mally finally peeked over her furred fingers and looked up to see... nothing. Whatever was happening above was not in her range of vision and she looked around her. She was completely alone in the back courtyard with only the gentle rustling of the pond reeds behind her.

Something flashed among the tall grass and she ran toward it.

It was the ribbon that was normally around Tarrant's hat. Her eyes looked over the clear surface of the pond, scanned the rushes, and combed through the grassy banks. His hat was nowhere to be seen.

Clasping the ribbon in her paws, she kept looking, back and forth, trying to discover where his precious top-hat had gone.

* * *

Back down the stairs, through the main court hall the parents ran. The fear still ran as ice in their veins, worried about what they might find in the back courtyard. Both of them hoped against all impossible odds that would find the hat, floating on the still waters, with Margaret safe inside.

Mally whipped around as she saw the two racing out of the castle. They dashed past her, running up to the edge of the pond. When it was not obviously apparent that the hat was there, they mimicked Mally's actions from earlier. Alice ran over to the castle walls, she ran along them, she began crying out her daughter's name.

"Margaret! Where are you?"

Hatter was no less frantic; his eyes were shifting colors faster than the wings flapped on a dragonfly. He finally collapsed onto his knees on the pond bank, gazing out into the dark water, unsure of what to do next, "Where's my hat? Margaret should be here with my hat."

The dormouse was crestfallen. She looked down at the ribbon, damp and listless in her paws. If this was here with her, then where was the rest? Her ears flatten against her head and in a meek little voice she called out, "Hatta?"

He turned to look, "Mally, what are-" It was then that he noticed his own unique ribbon. She lifted it up to him and with trembling bandaged hand, he took it from her.

"Where?"

"It was in the rushes and cat's tails."

"My hat?"

She shrugged her already shaking shoulders. Mally knew little of Margaret herself, but to see her friend so close to utter devastation was breaking her own heart. His eyes became a pale blue, devoid of any pure color.

Alice turned from where she had been looking along the walls, and she noticed Tarrant's dejected form. Then there was that ribbon he was holding.

The walk over to him was the longest in her life.

"Please," Her knees could support her no longer and she fell next to him, "Tell me, that is not the ribbon from your hat."

"Do not make me lie to you, my Alice." His voice was unstable.

She threw her arms around his neck and pressed her face into his shoulder, the shock preventing the coming of tears. He embraced her and held her tight against him.

Both of them were engulfed in their own grief. She was mourning the loss of her daughter, her only companion and friend, her only reason for being; and he felt the fresh pain of old wounds. He had only just learned that he had some remaining family in this world after having the rest ripped from him, and to lose Margaret so soon weighed heavily on him.

It was this scene that Bayard, Bielle, Nivens and Thackery ran in upon. The small group was not expecting to see such a crushed pair. Bayard and Bielle sat down where they were, understanding, and whimper slightly as they laid their heads upon the grass. Nivens could be heard to mutter the only thing he could think of, "Oh dear, oh dear."

Thackery, who brandished a stick in place of a sword, let his arms fall as he looked at Tarrant, "Spoon?" The voice was soft and saddened.

Neither of the parents could pay them much attention, and perhaps it was better that way.

* * *

Mirana walked briskly from the main courtyard to back courtyard. She had heard voices from this direction that could only belong to Alice and Tarrant.

She hoped that she wasn't too late. Upon entering the next yard, she feared that she was though. Alice and Tarrant were already huddled together, and if she looked closely, she could see the beginnings of tears in her Champion's eyes.

They did not notice her, and while she desperately wanted to cry out to them, she felt that she could not. This was a situation of extreme delicacy.

Carefully, she approached them, her footsteps barely able to be heard, her breathing stilled and unobtrusive. Standing next to them, she realized that they had still taken no notice of her.

"Alice?" The word hung on the summer breezes of Salazen Grum like no other.

With tear stained cheeks, the young woman looked up at her, "Mirana?"

"Please," The White Queen extended a pale hand; her black painted nails touched the arms that the Champion had left still so entwined around the Hatter's neck, "Do not cry."

Alice stared up at her, and the Hatter moved to look as well. They were flummoxed at her request, at its deeply inappropriate nature. Her mouth agape, Alice simply stared up at the monarch, and for a moment, she wondered if Mirana was gone again, replaced by the cruel Iracebeth.

"My daughter is gone," Tarrant spoke solemnly, "Let my Alice cry."

Mirana's eyes moved back and forth, she saw the ribbon in his hands, the dejected group of Underlandians, and she understood.

Out of the corner of his eye, he noticed Mally suddenly jump to her feet.

It was also then, that Mirana realized that in the way she had been standing, she had been most inconvenient. She turned and allowed her right arm to fall down to the level of Alice and Tarrant's eyes.

In her tiny hand, was his top-hat.

Both of them stared at it, neither could breathe.

Mirana reached into the hat with her free hand and lifted out the tiny form of Margaret, not more than three inches tall. She looked perfectly windswept, throttled, and as though she was recovering from being completely terrified. But, she was alive and without a scratch to show for it.

Alice had to stifle a choking sob of happiness.

The little girl sat down on Mirana's hand, "I don't ever want to drink Pishalver again!"

This time, neither of her parents could hold back the tears and exclamations of joy. Tarrant even laughed his same stilted laugh as when he was entirely nervous.

The queen handed over the child to Alice and the hat to Tarrant. She dug into the small satchel that hung about her waist, obviously made up by her sister. It was full of perspectives and poisons, but it did contain a small vial of Pishalver and a tiny cake of Upelkuchen. With the nail of her smallest finger, she pried away a tiny crumb from the pastry and handed it to Margaret.

Alice set her daughter upon the ground and Margaret popped the little bit of cake into her mouth.

"That should be just enough."

She stretched and grew upwards, her clothes becoming awfully tight. Mirana removed the red shawl that Iracebeth's consciousness had been wearing and wrapped it around the small child. Once she was her right-proper size again, Alice pulled her close and held her face in her hands. The mother planted kiss after kiss on the girl's cheeks and forehead before clasping her to her chest and hugging her so tightly she could scarcely breathe.

"I love you so much, Margaret."

"I love you too mother," She coughed, "But I cannot breathe!"

Alice eased off a little, but continued the shower of kisses until she was satisfied that the child knew how much she was adored.

As soon as Margaret escaped the grasp of her mother though, she was lifted off the ground into her father's arms. She looked at this man, with his slightly crazed green eyes and his peculiar hair. He held her close and kissed her once upon her forehead. With his free hand, he smoothed back her orange locks, which were quite wild and untamed from the fall.

He did not know what to say to her. How could he express how he felt about her? A few days ago she didn't exist in his world, and now the very possibility that she could be taken away could break him in half like a stale scone.

Margaret smiled at him and hugged him, and she laid her head upon his shoulder. Alice could see her whispering something to him.

With an amused expression, he looked at his daughter, "That's wonderful, we shall have to invite Mr. Poe to tea!"

Alice laughed.

* * *

There was a shriek from the tower where the overlook was. Mirana turned, her hands held up, to see what was going on.

Someone had just fallen from the tower.

Tarrant covered Margaret's eyes and turned so that she couldn't see. They were fortunate in that the person, who fell, happened to fall into the courtyard that Mirana had just come from.

The little group froze, everyone wanting to know what had happened.

Mally pointed to the tower windows, "Someone's coming down!"

A few minutes passed, all of them stared as the person inside the tower got ever closer to the ground floor. For a moment, the figure disappeared and everyone was silent, waiting.

Mirana was worried with thoughts that the Duchess may have gotten the better of Valoren, and that he may have the one who fell. Indeed, everyone was transported back a few moments into the same biting anticipation and apprehension that had so plagued them before.

Their fears were all for naught.

The White King appeared in the entry way to the courtyard and he leaned against the frame for a moment before taking slow and deliberate steps down the small stairway.

She ran to him and he caught her in his arms, kissing the wife he had missed for so many years.

A tentative whisper was heard, "The Duchess?"

"Yes."

"What happened?"

He hesitated, "She tripped and went over the ledge."

Alice and the Hatter traded glances, and even Margaret looked a bit surprised at this.

"She did?"

"It was a very unfortunate accident."

Mirana sighed, "My aunt was always so very clumsy."

Alice had to choke back her shock, "Your aunt?"

"Oh yes," Mirana turned, "She was the one who helped Iracebeth murder my dear mother and father. We haven't gotten along for nearly a decade."

"I see."

Taking each other's hands, the monarchs walked over to the small family.

Valoren raised an eyebrow at the little girl, "You're going to have to be very careful if you're going to be the new Red Queen, Margaret."

She blinked her large green eyes and stared at her parents, "Mother, what is he talking about?"


	15. 14: All's Wonder

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Part 14: All's Wonder

Part 14: All's Wonder

A/N: So, I must apologize, but this will be the last formal chapter, and it will be rated T. There will be three epilogue pieces; one of those will be the M rated piece.

* * *

It was decided, for the time being, or at least until the castle at Salazen Grum could be repaired properly, that Margaret and her parents would remain at Marmoreal as guests of Mirana and Valoren.

The journey back to the palace of ivory and marble was a joyous one. The Red Guard remained behind, busing themselves with touch-ups, hammers, nails, and the occasional splashes of paint. It was work that they could enjoy again, for not one would be losing their head if something was not exactly the right shade of red. Including those ever problematic roses, which were, for the most part, still a deep crimson?

Once under house arrest, the newly freed handmaids and chamber servants ran out to meet their monarch. It was not as dignified as Mirana would have preferred, but she could not deny them their joy and she lavished the attention bestowed on her.

A great deal of attention was paid to Valoren, who many remembered with fondness. He was the right arm of the White Queen, her original champion, her true White Knight.

Alice had much to think about on the journey home, she contemplated her daughter's fate here in Underland, as well as her own. She wondered how heavy the weight upon her heart would be at never seeing her mother and sister again; how much her 'death' must have hurt them. If she were to reappear again, she could not imagine the explanation being an easy one. Lord forbid her trying to bring one of the Underlandians with her to help, for certainly, they would all end up in the madhouse.

Mirana had confessed to her that she could step in and become the new Red Queen herself and in proper due time, hand over the crown and power to her daughter. This was problematic as well, being that Margaret's very life was owed to the crown, so certainly she would be the right person to rule. She thought that she was someone from the Otherland, adored, but not one of them. With every passing hour, her daughter was changing, her personality becoming more and more like her new look. Seeing nearly everything contrariwise, with giggling laughter and that bright appearance; the magic of Underland was changing her.

Margaret was half Underlandian, and as her mother observed, it was indeed her truly dominant personality. Alice mused that her own "muchness" was Underlandian in itself.

'_Perhaps,'_ The mother mused, _'The forces of nature had seen Charles Kingsley, and bestowed her upon his household. I might be a changeling child.'_ It nearly gained a laugh from her, _'Or perhaps I have nothing more than a privileged access to Wonder.'_

The horses trod onwards, the slow steady beat of their hooves were lulling Alice further and further into her own thoughts.

With a sleepy head, Margaret leaned back against her mother, watching along the horizon for the first signs of the castle to come into view. She doubted that she would be awake to see them, for every moment, her eyes drooped, and head faltered, and the rhythmic beat of her mother's heart was very comforting.

The horse, Falada, turned his head to gaze at the child, and he stepped slower, with more care, to allow her the sleep she had earned that day.

Behind Alice, was the Mad Hatter. He was exhausted and pleased, indeed, the best way to end a day. A few days without his tea had found him greatly anticipating the return to the White Queen's castle. All he could think of was returning to his beloved tea table, Alice and Margaret next to him, Mally and Thackery tossing sugar cubes through the air; that was good for him.

Wrapping his arms more tightly around Alice, he noticed the star seeker's gaze on her gentle countenance.

"Alice?"

She shook, only slightly, roused, "Yes?"

"Are you dreaming?"

"No," There was a small smile, "This place is enough of a dream to last me ten lifetimes."

"What were you thinking of?"

"I was considering things that begin with the letter M again." She brushed some of her daughter's hair to one side, "Marmoreal, Mirana, Margaret."

"Good things, all of them."

"Quite good."

There was silence between them. Alice wondered about Tarrant sometimes. He could be brilliant and lively at times, and awfully subdued at others. Why in Wonderland was he so quiet?

"Hatter?"

His eyebrows arched in question.

"Do you think she's ready to be a queen? We've had rather bad luck with young rulers in the Otherland."

Grinning at her, he replied, "She will be perfect for Underland."

A satisfied smile followed, "I would ask you how you know, but I suppose you just do."

He nodded rather eagerly, "She'll be the best queen since Mirana, or Mirana's mother Selana, or Selana's mother Ambra, or Ambra's mother, Quiala, or – "

"Hatter." It was a whisper in his ear. She leaned her head back and kissed his cheek.

Tarrant did not blush as a normal person would, instead, a tiny bit of color swirled through his eyes and the green became deeper and warmer.

"Well, I am quite sure that she will have the best hats of any queen to ever rule Underland."

Hugging her more tightly to him, their bodies slightly swaying with the motion of the horse, they approached the castle Marmoreal.

They were all very fortunate that the White Guards were well rested, for they had the duty of carrying the tired and sleeping forms to their various beds, not to wake again until breakfast.

* * *

Margaret was falling again. The world was large and quickly approaching her speeding form. She was screaming and crying, yelling out for her mother, father, anyone, to save her.

Against her will, her body turned and she faced the ground. It was a sight that was horrifying, and she closed her eyes to spare herself the vision. Something kept telling her to open them again, and she fought it for the longest time until –

Her eyes opened to see the sleeping face of her mother. She sat up, slowly, gazing around the room. Both she and Alice had been laid on a large bed in a guest room to sleep off the events of yesterday.

The sheer white curtains fluttered with a slight breeze, the sunlight was already beginning to stream in. With a contented sigh that her nightmare was over, she got up and snuck out of the room. Her soft steps could barely be heard as she wandered down the hallway and down the stairs to the lower floors.

Someone was humming and rattling around and she followed the noise. It led her to large wooden doors, one of which was conveniently ajar. She peeked around the frame to see the White Queen concocting some potion.

Without even looking her way, Mirana called out in a very sing-song manner, "Margaret would you like to come in?"

A bit taken aback, the girl halted for a moment.

"You can stay there and talk to me, but I'm afraid the conversation may be cut in half." She patted a worn stool for the girl to sit upon, and Margaret cautiously entered; jumping up on the chair.

"How did you sleep?"

"I had a nightmare."

"Falling?"

"Yes."

"That will pass," Nodded the Queen, plucking an oddly large eyeball from a jar and tossing it in the pot. It bubbled and popped and Margaret found that she was intrigued by this potion making skill.

"Can you teach me that?"

"Potions and elixirs? Yes, I can."

"May I ask you a question?"

"Anything."

"Will I be a good queen?"

Mirana looked at her with large eyes, "Do you want to be the new Red Queen?"

"I think I do, but I'm afraid."

"Of what?"

"That I won't be the right queen. I don't know how!"

"Well, I will help you, of course, and you'll have your mother and father."

Margaret looked down at the table, unsure of what to say or do. She knew not the source of her fears, only that she had them.

"I trust that you will be good at it. I created you, especially to be queen."

"You did?"

Mirana's head tilted, remembering, "Your mother was a great Champion. She stood against the Jabberwocky for me, and she slew him for all Underland. Your father was the leader of the resistance against the old Red Queen. He sacrificed himself for your mother and he fought on the battlefield against the Red Knave. I made you from the best of both of them; therefore, I am confident you will be a very good queen."

"What was wrong with the old Red Queen?"

"She was very selfish; I think she may have had a problem in her head. I don't worry about that too much with you though."

"Oh."

"You're already mad, but delightfully so."

"I'm mad?"

The smile on the black lips of the White Queen was too jovial, "Oh yes, I'm afraid that all of the Hightopps are a bit mad. We prefer them that way; it's the only way for them to be."

Margaret nodded, unsure of what to do with this news. She was well aware that she was different, but to be mad? At least she was in the proper place for it.

"You will simply have to learn to control it."

"I just don't want to be evil."

Sympathy crossed the good queen's face, "My dear, there is nothing evil about you." She put a delicate hand on the young girl's cheek, "I made you from everything good. The very fact that you are concerned about it makes me very sure that you are the right queen."

The younger girl smiled, and the White Queen motioned for her to come around to the other side of the table.

"I have one more question."

"Yes?"

"I saw a portrait of your sister, and I wanted to know," The little girl leaned in close, conspiratorially, "My head isn't going to grow that large is it?"

Mirana burst out laughing for only a second before recovering her grace and placing a hand to her lips, "Good heavens, no!"

Shaking her head slightly, she put an arm around the child, "Now, I know you're not fond of Pishalver, but let me teach you how to make it. These are buttered fingers, and they're quite useful in several potions."

* * *

Tarrant had never liked sleeping inside. The instant he awoke, he was out in his favorite overstuffed armchair taking tea. Some considerate palace servant had baked him fresh scones, obviously grateful of the role he had played in helping to restore Mirana.

Alice suddenly appeared in the seat beside him. She took a scone in hand and broke it into smaller pieces, eating each thoughtfully.

"Margaret is going to be crowned the new Red Queen tonight."

He grinned, "She is?"

"I heard her walk out this morning, and I followed her. She and Mirana had a nice talk about it."

"Naughty Alice, spying on people." He tsked her, grinning his wide smile.

"I have a feeling you would not like me if I were not quite so naughty." She laid her hand over his, one of her eyebrows raised in a very curious fashion.

His green eyes stared into her hazel ones, and he allowed his fingers to be entwined with hers.

They regarded each other a moment before she stood up again. Alice leaned over the table and gently placed her lips upon his. The kiss was sweet, but a touch hungry, like a sour tea with plenty of sugar that made one pucker and quickly swallow another gulp to try and drown an unquenchable thirst. Quite the vicious cycle, and both of them loved it.

In this way, she moved to pull back from him, but he could not allow it just yet. Rising from his chair, he pushed back against her. When he found her taking a step back, he was rather displeased. He grasped her waist and turned her, shoving her against the tea table's edge. When she was completely without the means to move from him again, he deepened their embrace.

Alice found herself having the most terribly naughty, forbidden thoughts about the tea table, and it seemed that he must be too. Perhaps one night, they would sacrifice candle light, break a few pieces of fine China and find themselves in too much passion to care.

She was so contrary a girl, indeed what should be a proper Victorian lady, to be even thinking of such things.

The kiss was broken soon after.

"I should very much like to mend things with time," He whispered, "He always seems to start and stop when we are together."

"Is there anything I could do to help?"

"Meybe ye could beg him, plead with him." Tarrant growled lightly, nipping at her throat. Again, with that oddly seductive brogue she loved.

"If I must."

There was a smirk on his lips.

Alice was finally able to push him back enough to escape the tight clutches of the Hatter, though loathe doing so. She felt modesty attempt to rush into her body through a blush in her cheeks, but her tongue betrayed her, "I look forward to it."

* * *

The Red Queen did have a crown; one of her very own. It had so happened that Iracebeth always wanted what was not hers or that which she could not have. Mirana's crown was a touch bigger, and perhaps a smidgen more ornate so she took it just to spite her little sister.

At the beginning, the White Queen kept the red crown for sentimental reasons. She knew what her sister had done, and that she was a person beyond redemption in many areas, but still she hoped. When it became obvious that Iracebeth was gone entirely to that one deep and dark corner of the mind, she locked the crown away in the vault with the other royal jewels.

As she held the heavy precious metal in her hands, she silently thanked her servants for keeping it dusted and polished over the years. How terrible would it be to have to hurry to have it ready by that night? For the White Queen, that simply would not do. Preparation was everything, and if anyone knew about an ounce of prevention and a pound of cure, it would be her.

She turned the circle shape and felt the weight on her hands. For years, the White Queen had bore two daughters, one red and one white. As the elders of Mirana's lines had grown calmer and more docile over the years, the red ancestors had grown angrier and more volatile.

The Oraculum had predicted the end of all of it, but something in Mirana still felt as though she was personally ending part of her own bloodline.

Margaret would be a mad queen, not as reserved as Mirana, but she would be the jovial type of madness. There were no memories of destruction to send her into her father's rages, and so, she had high hopes for her. She would be the queen holding court at a tea table, or insisting that speaking backwards was the proper way to address the call to dinner. Like her mother though, she could see everything contrariwise and would therefore laugh at herself before others.

The gold sparkled.

The Oraculum foretold the end of the reign of "The Line of the Reds," and the rise of "The Line of the Otherland." Mirana welcomed it with an open heart and she was sure that the Underlandian residents did too.

"Goodbye Iracebeth."

* * *

Alice stood back for a moment and contemplated Margaret. The little girl looked a tad uncomfortable in the strange dress.

"What do you think?"

"Do I have to wear it every day?"

"No, just for the ceremony."

"It's an ugly shade of red, mother!"

"I quite agree, but until the court dressmaker or your father can come up with something better, this will have to do for now."

The dress was not appealing in the least. It was a miniature deep red affair, with a built in corset that there was no time to remove right now. That detail vexed both Alice and her daughter, but it couldn't be helped.

Mirana had saved a few of the outfits that her and her sister had worn in their youth, and being that there was no another shred of red fabric in Marmoreal, they would do for the crowning ceremony.

Alice was conflicted, and she imagined that Tarrant would be too when he saw her. Their own little girl in the dress of a woman who had been their sworn adversary; it was a sight to be seen.

Margaret had already started plans for how she was going to brighten the palace at Salazen Grum and how she would change the shades of red.

Kneeling down, the mother straightened the collar around the neck and the cuffs at the wrists, "You're still rather adorable."

"Mother." Even so young, the child was exasperated at the look on her mother's face. She was reminiscing, she could tell by the mist in Alice's eyes.

"As wild as my dreams are," Alice tugged on the skirt to fluff it, "I never imagined I would be dressing my only daughter for her coronation."

She stood up, and taking Margaret by the hand, they walked out of the dressing quarters toward the main hall.

* * *

Tarrant was wringing his hands, his nervousness fairly laid bare for all to see. He did not have the finery of some of Mirana's court, and despite being employed there, he was well aware of the distinction between people like himself and those like the White Queen.

He had not felt like this since his father had brought him on a Milliner's assignment ages ago, when he had just been a mere boy.

Valoren looked over at him and nudged him slighty, "Are you alright?"

"I-, I- I'm just a bit nervous," He stuttered.

"About what? You don't have to do anything, just stand there." Valoren tilted his head slightly and sighed, "Like me."

Looking at the White King out of the corner of his eye, the Hatter imitated the formal posture for a few moments before becoming bored and returning to his default agitated state.

From her place at the podium, Mirana watch the scene with a sly smile.

The doors to the throne room were opened by a pair of white knight-headed guards. Alice, in a beautiful blue and white gown, escorted the young girl into the room. Her long blond curls hung loose around her shoulders and she exchanged a loving smile with Tarrant as she passed by him.

He could have watched those golden locks shimmer forever.

Margaret, for the most part, looked at no one, her eyes focused entirely on the scene before her.

Mirana walked down the few steps and held out her hand to the small child. As per their earlier conversation, Margaret had no fear in taking the delicate, pale palm.

Alice turned and walked away, moving to stand with Tarrant. She sought out his hand and they watched together as the White Queen escorted their daughter back up the steps.

For a second, Margaret bit her lip before taking her place of honor on Mirana's throne. She felt a little odd there, for this didn't belong to her at all.

Standing back at the podium, Mirana addressed the crowd or courtiers, guards, and civilians of the Underland.

"As you all know, our beloved Underland must have two queens. The Oraculum had long ago predicted that the Line of the Red Queens would come to an end, and that the Line of the Otherland Queens would begin. This would bring about a time of great peace and prosperity. Until now, we did not know entirely that the daughter of our Champion, Alice, would be the new queen to replace my sister, Iracebeth."

Out of respect for the moment, the hisses and whispers at that dreaded name were held back.

"We come here today, to crown this girl, Margaret Kingsley, the new Red Queen of Crims, of Salazen Grum, and my sister, as queen to all of Underland."

Applause sounded out, and Margaret blushed a deeper shade than her bright hair. She tried her hardest to remain dignified, but she desperately wanted to laugh and enjoy the moment.

"May I have the scepter please?"

Eiron came forward, and he bowed, handing off the ornate gold piece to the White Queen. She thanked him and turned back to Margaret.

"Take this, Margaret, and remember the power you wield in your hands was gifted to you."

A bishop headed guard who looked awfully familiar, came forward with the crown.

Ever so gently, Mirana raised it from the pillow and set it upon the orange hair that Alice had managed to tame for the ceremony.

"Wear this, Margaret, and remember the crown upon your head is the weight of your responsibility to your people. It is up to you if you wear it with pride or not."

Sighing, Margaret closed her eyes and she felt that it was an awfully heavy ornament. She was thankful that she had so many who would help her.

"Who are you?"

Her eyes snapped open and she looked at the White Queen, questioningly.

"Who are you, my dear?"

"I am Margaret Kingsley," And she paused, "In the Otherland, daughter of Alice Kingsley, Champion of the Underland."

"And?"

Not realizing she would be prompted to continue, the little girl thought a moment, "And, I am Frantia Hightopp, daughter of Tarrant Hightopp, Hatter to the White Queen."

Mirana smiled at her.

"I am the Red Queen."

The smile grew larger and the crowd burst in a loud applause and cheers. Members of the White Court may not have jumped for joy, but the citizenry would not be deterred. As she looked around at the group of people so happy for her, her eyes fell on her parents. Both the Champion and the Hatter were grinning at her, leaned against each other in a gentle and loving fashion.

As the noise died down, Valoren stepped forward a few steps and gave a bow to Margaret as an older brother might, "May I be the first to say, long live the new Red Queen."

He walked to his wife and took her hand. It was entirely complete, and she addressed them all, "I see no more reason to stand on ceremony. All of Underland is invited to attend the celebratory festival in the gardens of Marmoreal."

The old monarchs and the guests left the hall, all in hurry to attend the outdoor meal that the castle staff had worked all day on.

Tarrant walked up to his daughter and picked her up, "I won't have a queen walk to her own party!"

She giggled, more a child than ever in her father's arms.

Alice hugged her as best she could, "So, that's your real name is it? When did you remember?"

"I don't know; it just came to me!"

* * *

It was customary to serve tea at a coronation festival; alongside it came spiced and mulled wines, sometimes with generous portions stirred directly into the kettle. A good serving of the drink brewed with hints of Earl Grey, Darjeeling, and Muscat grapes could warm the bones faster than a pure straight sip.

Naturally, everyone indulged except the guest of honor. Margaret was too enthralled with the entertainment provided by the various skilled tumblers, actors, and jesters to care.

Alice leaned back in her chair, one elbow upon the armrest, cradling a teacup in her hands. At the moment, she preferred a cup of Lady Grey with a touch of spiced wine. The light citrus of the tea blending perfectly with the deep red wine flavors. It was the taste of a fresh orange on the eve of Christmas, a light lemon custard after a heavy warm meal. She quite enjoyed it. Taking another sip, her eyes found Hatter.

Even though he was seated next to her, she had not seen what type of tea he'd selected. It smelled not as any variety found in her Otherland, but something infinitely richer. The scent of it reminded her of being led through the dark woods by a mysterious cat. Fresh earth underfoot and accented by the still lingering drops of rain upon tree leaves. She wanted to follow it again.

He had liberally applied wine from the same bottle she had taken for hers, and while his spirits were high, there wasn't any drunken carousing. No, in fact, he was entertained enough by watching Thackery practice his juggling skill to the amusement of the entire court.

Margaret's reaction to it was no less priceless. In accordance with tradition, the crowned royals sat on a special platform designed to give them the best view of the talent. Her parents were near to her though, sitting as guests of the highest honor.

They were celebrating in a certain fashion. _'In a Hightopp fashion,'_ Tarrant mused. This all appeared so very familiar to him but these were not his people, only a few of them wore hats at all! All around him, he saw those who had adopted the very form of the Hightopps in dance, in dress, indeed in all manner of merrymaking. It concerned him, he didn't want to forget those he had lost, but he didn't want others to become them either.

There were only two there who he thought had the right to adorn themselves in such a way, at least, in his mind. One was tossing sugar cubes into an already precariously balanced cup on a Hare's nose, and the other was at his side. The former was bound to him by blood, the latter; he wished to bind to him in the future.

She was sipping tea lightly, delicately. With her fingers very carefully curled around the handle, she brought the drink to her lips. He followed every move with his eyes. Knowing how hard Alice had tried to resist the restrictive upbringing, it was odd to see her so proper acting, but she must be in observance of the occasion.

Alice looked back at him and smiled. The warm flavors of the tea washed over tongue and down into her stomach. As she stared into his eyes, she could feel that heat inside her. It did not act as she remembered it, when her mother would hand her warm milk after a day in the snowy fields. This was new; this inner heat spread itself out in her body. It flowed into her fingers and toes, it made her feel the need for a light fan. She touched her fingers to her temple, and found the intense beat of her pulse on slightly moistened skin. Despite the fact that the night was upon them, a crisp spring eve, she found the air to be cooling upon her livened skin.

None of this escaped his notice, and she knew it. She was forced to break their stare for a moment, and her cheeks flushed. It was at the very moment that she turned her face that he leaned forward and placed a gentle kiss upon her cheek. The blushed deepened.

Before he was too far from her, she decided to steal the next kiss. The teacup was set down rather unceremoniously as they came together, and she did not care a bit about it. Alice knew full well the effect of a drink that came with wine, and she had no intentions of surrendering to it.

Most persons at the festival were not paying attention to the random happenings around them, but some were. Gossipers gave little wings to their whispers and they fairly flew around the open courtyard. It was not long before Mirana was persuaded to look over at her Champion and Hatter. Being engaged as they were, the White Queen did not see any problems. They were not drunk, nor disgraceful; merely a pair engaged in a tender kiss. It made her smile to see them so.

At one point, Margaret looked over for a moment and then resumed watching Thackery. She didn't feel that it was her place to stare. Most of the party either felt the same, or never even noticed, so she replicated their discreet actions. Seeing her parents together though, gave her hope. She had never longed for the average, normal life, but she knew that she wanted to see her mother happy.

"Excuse me."

Tarrant was instantly annoyed. At himself, at whoever this was bothering them, and at Time. That fellow, that frumious, odious, slurvish knave known as Time had vexed him again! He always managed to interrupt him, just as he and Alice were –

"Champion, the White Queen would like to speak with you." The Bishop-headed guard was sheepish, "I'm sorry to disturb you… again."

She sighed deeply, and held his cheek in her hand, "I'll be back before you know it."

The guard escorted her over to the Queen and the two women began to whisper. Alice looked confused at first, then a bit shocked. Around the same moment, the White King grinned and chuckled as he observed her reaction.

Tarrant's mad mind began to race, and run itself in circles. _What could they possibly want with his Alice? Surely they didn't want to take her away again?_ Then his mind came to another, more frightening idea, _what if Alice could not stay here? What if the minute she had completed her task, she would be called away again? Would he have to wait again for her to come back again? How could their family be broken up again so soon?_

He kept watching the two women talking, searching Alice's face for any signs of concern, and searching to see if Mirana had a spare vial of Jabberwocky blood in her hands. After a while longer, the Champion had a slight smile upon her face. She seemed to thank Mirana and then, hands behind her back, she walked back over to him.

"Alice? What did the Queen want? Did she tell you that you could stay? Do you have to leave? What about Margaret? You're not going to go home are you? You told me that you and Margaret would stay here."

"Hatter?" Alice leaned down and kissed him to silence him.

"I'm fine." He murmured when she pulled away.

"Margaret and I aren't going anywhere." She held out a gloved hand to him, her fingers were tantalizingly uncovered though, "We're going to stay here forever."

"Forever," Taking her hand, he allowed her to pull him from his seat, "Forever?"

"And maybe a few more days after that, one can never tell with Underland." The smile on her face was irresistible, "Could I persuade you to take a walk with me?"

"Do you think we should? Don't you think the Queens will be most offended if we leave their party?"

"I think that Margaret is having far too much fun to notice, and this was actually Mirana's idea."

The confusion on his face was as easily read as the Oraculum.

As Alice led Tarrant away, the White King and Queen watched the quickly disappearing pair. Mirana sighed contentedly, "I win, dear, that took less than five minutes."

He lifted a glass of spiced wine, "So you do. I've missed our little bets."

They toasted the pair of goblets together and returned to observing the festival.

* * *

"Alice? Where are we going?"

She laughed, "That's the first time you've ever asked me that question. Usually, I'm asking you."

They were wandering through the gardens of Marmoreal. The white cherry blossom trees were in a perpetual bloom. Their heavenly little petals drifted to the ground every now and again, like a strange floral rain.

Finally, they were away from the party. The lights were distant and flickering, and the music was but soft tones carried to them on a light breeze. Unlike standing upon the balcony, the night out in the gardens was infinitely darker. They had to hold to one another to make sure they knew that the other was there. Tarrant had to admit that he enjoyed that part of it.

The garden was so deep and intimate, it closed it around them, perhaps by design, and they kissed again.

"I'm a bit worried." He mused.

"Why?"

"I'm wondering what Time will send to interrupt us."

Giggling, Alice wrapped her arms around his neck, "Nothing. He owes us."

"What did the Queen tell you?"

She looked at him with coy eyes, "Mirana said that she would make sure that Margaret was taken care of, and put to bed on time, of course."

"We can tuck her in, the Queen doesn't have to."

"She also said that Valoren had told her something, and because of that, she decided that perhaps you and I deserved some time together."

"Oh!" His gasp was amusing, but if he hadn't before, he now considered those two to be truly wise monarchs.

With wide eyes, she stared up at him. They were almost a touch fearful, despite the obvious wanting in them, "Do you want to take advantage of their offer?"

He looked at her as if she'd declared herself a Jabberwocky and grown another head, "Of course!"

His hands began to take full advantage of the darkness of the grove, she felt him trail kisses down her neck, along her shoulders.

"Hatter!" Now it was her turn to gasp, she grabbed onto some of his clothing to steady her weak knees.

"You're fine, my Alice."

* * *

Margaret ran back to Mirana, all the excitement of childhood causing her to be a bit flustered in the process.

"Mirana? Where are my mother and father?"

"They stepped away for a little while, dear, don't worry about it. Why don't you return to the party? Queens must spend time among their subjects."

She looked back at the party, and then past the White Queen as if her mother was hiding behind her. It was not hard for her to return to the festivities. Odd child though she was, she was still a child.

The White Queen sighed and leaned over to her husband, "For a moment, I was a bit worried that she would start asking more questions. I'm not in the mood to explain that."

He grinned, "Perhaps later."

"I don't think it's my place to tell her such things."

He took a long drink from his goblet, "I was not referring to her, darling."

Had Mirana been capable of blushing, she would have betrayed her inner feelings. She took a small sip of spiced wine and a strange thought came to her.

"What happens now?"

"What do you mean?"

"Alice has defeated the Jabberwocky and my sister. Margaret is the new Red Queen. Alice and the Hatter are together. You've come back to me."

"I don't see a problem." He took her hand and kissed it gently.

"What are we going to do for excitement around here? Life has been so tumultuous for so long, I don't know if I'll be able to handle a peaceful existence."

Valoren looked at her and raised his eyebrow slightly. He had far too many things to say to that.

The White King simply squeezed his wife's hand and looked back to the party; his hearty laugh sounding over the festivities.

Underland could never want for something new, and with all that had happened, it was certain that it would only be a matter of time.


	16. Epilogue 2 of 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> RtW: Epilogue 2 of 3

RtW: Epilogue 2 of 3

I decided to post 2 of 3 before 1 because I already had this written.

Please review! Reading without reviewing is just plain not nice!

* * *

It was hardly a shadow of its former self, the castle at the port of Salazen Grum. That was not even its name anymore.

Margaret hated that name, and had so decreed that until she could find a better one, it was simply to be called, "The Red Castle."

Given her daughter's personality these days, Alice thought it was likely to remain that way for some time, maybe all time. Names were the least of the young queen's worries; she was far too busy redecorating.

In the three months time since the coronation of Margaret, the reign of Iracebeth had been swept away into the depths of the red sea.

Alice loved to walk around the gardens now; they no longer filled her with the fear of beheading or were plagued with the persistent abuse of flamingos and hedgehogs.

Whereas Mirana's palace grounds were the strongholds of tranquility and peace, Margaret's were vibrant, bright and bustling with life. It was a place where the Champion of Underland could come to feel inspired.

The Red Guard had done wonderful work, and so quickly too. They desperately wanted to please their new monarch and she thanked them for it with tarts and cordials on a daily basis.

Crumbling stone had been repaired, new red paint placed upon any faded wall, and a multitude of new sculpture brought in to the gardens. Margaret had refused the trimming of any shrubbery to resemble her head, too many bad tastes.

As the queen mother, another official title of Alice's but one she was less enthused about, wandered about, she came to the lake that fed the moat.

Before the water had not truly been water, it was a deep thick substance, murky, with curious odors and the strange likenesses of heads bobbing about in it. Both had been drained, task though it was, and replaced with fresh water. Dyed a lovely crimson shade, one could see clear to the bottom and when the sunlight touched the surface, the water glittered as if the pond were filled with rubies.

Offsetting the beautiful reds that now adorned the palace, reds of passion instead of blood, was the greenery.

With Margaret on the throne, Underland began a rebirth, a renaissance. The desert overgrew with forest and garden, and one was very put upon to discover any sun scorched earth.

Alice was very happy for her daughter, for her Hatter, for all Underland, her friends, and herself.

Her eyes fell back upon the very center of the courtyard. An immaculately trimmed rosebush grew apart from all the others. It was highlighted here for the glorious white roses that blossomed on it.

The friendship between Mirana and Margaret was a strong one. The younger queen was the sister that the White Queen had always wanted, if only in spirit, and she had given Margaret the gift of an ever-blooming white rosebush. Margaret had reciprocated immediately, and thus were the gardens of Marmoreal adorned with red roses.

All those troubles over roses, Alice gently lifted a bloom to her nose and inhaled. She half expected the smell of paint, so curious was that memory to her, but instead she smelled a fragrant perfume unlike any before. Leaning in, careful not to disturb the plant, she allowed a second deep breath. It was perfectly wonderful.

"Hello love."

Startled, Alice stood up quickly. Luckily, she dropped the stem of the rose and it fell without breaking from the bush. Unfortunately, one of the thorns caught her first finger and drew a drop of blood.

"Oh!" Alice complained aloud, more upset than in pain.

"No worries, I'm sure that will heal in time."

"Chessur," She kissed away the red fluid, "You gave me a start."

"I apologize," He turned on the air and gave her a sideways grin, "I did not intend to."

She smiled, trying not to pay attention to the coppery taste on her tongue, "It's alright. Did you come for a visit?"

He chuckled, "I just popped in for a moment, can't let my evaporating skills get all rusty."

"Very true."

"I came to say hello to you and yours before I left."

"Thank you, but Tarrant and Margaret aren't out here."

"I know, I've already seen them." His grin touched the tips of his furred ears.

"Oh well, thank you for stopping in." That grin was met with her confused gaze. The flippant feline obviously loved the oddity of his actions.

"Have a good day, Alice." There was a puff of mist and he vanished.

Alice doubted that he existed sometimes, and she thought that the next time she encountered him; she should try to pet his fur to see if he was a corporeal being.

She looked down at her finger. It still stung a bit, but it had stopped bleeding. There was a sudden voice behind her and she spun around to see if Chessur was still present.

No one was there, however, that tiny whisper came about again and she turned around back to facing the rosebush.

"Who's there?"

Silence was her only answer. For a moment she held perfectly still, listening and waiting.

She was rewarded in her efforts, but not in the way she'd hoped. Instead of a whisper, something seemed to pass through her form like a breeze, and her skin shivered; her body fluttered.

The small cut on her finger bled one more drop and she put it to her smiling, contented lips.

Was there anything that the Cheshire cat didn't know?


	17. Epilogue 1 of 3: RATED M

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> RtW: Epilogue 1 of 3 (M Rated Chapter)

RtW: Epilogue 1 of 3 (M Rated Chapter)

A/N: I'm hoping that this epilogue might give a little insight into what is going on in the second one. The third one definitely will! A hint, it wasn't the Cheshire cat that was whispering to Alice.

WARNING: This is the "M" chapter. It contains some language and explicit sexual content. If you don't wish to read it, or are too young, please navigate to something else.

Once again, reviews are asked for and loved!

* * *

For all his supposed fickle behavior, his increasing and decreasing, his speeding and slowing, Time was someone who would get what he wanted.

He loved to play, although the mortal realm might call his play a torturous experience.

He also had his own rules. He knew what the game should be, how it should be played, and how it should end. The final score mattered nothing however, it was the thrill of the chase until that last fleeting moment that he enjoyed.

If the mortals had to learn the hard way, then so be it, he didn't give a damn. He would be satisfied, like so many other abstracts, he would be satisfied.

People were always trying to waste him, and in the Hatter's case, kill him. The offense at that had been so great that he had decided to make the Hatter wait; to make him languish in his loss upon the Frabjous day.

Then, she returned again. Time had no choice in the matter now. The Hatter had a few allies in the realm of abstract and odd. Madness of course, and Hope had often held to him in defiance of her brother Time. Madness' twin, Passion, was a tricky woman, but she would be satisfied if she had to strike down Time to get her way.

She had taken a liking to Alice the day the little girl had slew the Jabberwocky.

So, waiting until her fellow abstract was distracted with coronations and all other goings-on, Passion decided that it was now her game to play, and she didn't particularly care about rules.

Alice and the Hatter owed her, she felt, and she wanted to collect on a long overdue debt.

* * *

Far from the party, secluded in the sheltering embrace of the white blooming trees of Marmoreal's courtyard, Alice gave in to touch.

"You're fine, my Alice." Those words, laced with the brogue he carried whenever he was inspired, weakened her in the knees.

Her slender fingers held onto his coat, gripping the lapels. It was hard to see him in the darkness and she was fairly electric at the prospect of being at the mercy of her Hatter.

Feverish kisses slid down her neck, punctuated with a tiny nip at times when he was sure that she was not expecting them. Her shoulders were next, but these were feather-light, as though he had changed his mind in the small hollow at the base of her throat. She desperately hoped that he hadn't.

He was mumbling something to her that she couldn't understand. Something outlandish or in Outlandish, but she could not tell. In truth, she didn't care.

Emboldened, he allowed his hands to trace the gentle curves of her breasts through her dress. The breath hitched in her throat and he cupped them, squeezing the soft flesh.

"Tarrant?"

"Yes, love?"

"Can we go to my bedchamber?"

If he had been looking for the confirmation that she wanted him in every fashion, then he now had it. With his face in the crook of her neck, he inhaled the delicious scent of her skin. She smelled of sweetened tea, of citrus and jasmine flowers; it was the kind of smell that one could only find under the moon, the night skin taste that came out under pale light and heated blood.

She was his only temptress, his only love. If all the teapots in the world cracked tomorrow and she was still lying next to him in bed, he did not know if he would notice one broken kettle.

Carefully, with great attention paid to not being noticed, they walked back through the forest of white-petal trees.

They kept to the side, and snuck behind the festivities to a side door into the castle. Hand in hand, they raced up the steps, utterly alone in the palace, hearts racing as the spiced wine rushed through their veins. He held his hat on as they dashed into the room, the door shut behind them, the lock clicking into place.

His hat landed on one of the night tables where he flung it.

Alice found herself being held, kissed and caressed as he returned to his attentions of her body. Locked away from the rest of the world, she could express her pleasure in mewling moans and purrs. It spurred him onward, but he soon ran into a snag.

"What's wrong?"

"Your dress, I'm afraid Time may have gotten in my way again."

"Oh nonsense." She whispered, and she turned. With delicate motion, she pulled back her long wavy blond locks to reveal the ties.

Oh his lovely, delightful, beautiful Alice! He was lucky to be a Hatter, for he was trained to make short work of clever knots. What he had not been prepared for, was when the garment slipped away. It pooled around her feet. The image of the silken fabric trailing down her thighs would never be removed from his memory, even in his madness.

She turned, her hands almost instinctively covering herself though she had no need to. His eyes fairly drank in the sight of her. A blush began to show upon her pale skin as if painting her body in the lust she was feeling.

Tarrant wasted little time is stripping himself of his own troublesome garments, wondering if they had been devised by a madman like himself, or someone who took far too much pleasure in the loosening of ties. His skin was far whiter than hers, and for a moment, he had to wonder if she would look at him with curiosity. She merely laid a trembling hand on his bare chest, and tiled her head to gently kiss his lips. Those fingers trailed down his body, but stopped short of his manhood, unknowing how to proceed further.

Champion of Underland she was, but he wanted to be her Champion and so he took the lead that his body begged him to take. His hands felt her waist and he walked with her towards the bed. They broke apart for only a moment; she sat down upon the large comforter.

At this particular angle, she could see that part of a man that she never had before. Once, before her sister was married, Alice had overheard a conversation that her mother had with Margaret about the relations between a husband and a wife. How very small she felt at that moment, but she also wondered who could be confronted with such a situation only to lie back and think of England? Especially when such a part was not at all small enough to escape one's notice!

She was no fool. There must be some reason for the secrecy surrounding such an act that must go on between all men and women. Perhaps she would be subject to pain, but she assumed that her mother would have told her that to warn her off it and she did not think that Tarrant would ever willingly hurt her. It was more likely, judging by the flush in her skin and the thoughts that clouded her mind that this would be something to enjoy. He made short work of her undergarments and she was made naked in this most hidden rite between lovers.

The Hatter was lost the sight of her nude form. Her skin was as the marble of the palace, smooth and fine, and her scarlet lips so begged to be kissed again and again. Indeed, every curve of her form reminded him of the sculpted porcelain of a tea set. Even the soft flesh of her stomach that had once been extended in accommodation of new life was beautiful to him. He longed to see it in that state again sometime soon.

Moving backwards onto the bed, she leaned back against the pillows as he crawled up to meet her on his hands and knees. It was hard not to simply stare at the newness of his naked skin.

She was such a curious girl, and he would use that to his advantage.

His lips found her breast and he took one of her nipples into his mouth. With quick flicks of his tongue, he teased her.

"Oh!" Gasped Alice, her hands grasping at the nearest sheets as he sucked. Every fiber in her tingled and she found that other parts of her body were responding to his actions. She saw a very self satisfied grin from him and she could feel a light throbbing begin in her core.

He switched to her left breast, and this time, he heard her restrain herself from making any noise, "Nay lass," Looking up, she saw that his eyes were a desirous and dangerous shade of gold, "Don ye be dare holdin' back tonight."

She become aware that her mouth was partially open in sheer want of him when he ran a finger across her lower lip, and she quickly closed her mouth and swallowed hard.

"I want ta hear ye scream fer me."

That light throbbing she felt became a distinct pulsing in her lower body. His desire was upon her, it was sealed in her chest and their hearts were beating in time only for each other.

"Screaming?" She was breathing hard, "Will I be screaming?"

Taking her lips harshly, his silver tongue slipped into her mouth while his fingers worked their way down her body. He sweetened his tongue on hers and she adored it.

Then, she felt his fingers touch an area of body that was sensitive beyond anything she had ever known and her eyes snapped open.

"If I do my job right, ye will scream fer me."

Alice found herself damning her strict society up-bringing that she felt partially embarrassed to be so exposed to him. Never mind his touching of her most intimate area. For years she had been attempting to ignore the rules that had been preached to her constantly and now she was just focused on them at the most inappropriate time. How could she possibly stop thinking –

He slid a single finger into her. The pulsating feeling brought the blood to her temples and her train of thought was thrown to the wind.

"Oh god!"

Tarrant chuckled and moved his hand against her. She could hardly contain herself and without hesitation, she gave into her emotions. Underland was not a place for logic, and neither was the bedroom. Certainly not at this moment anyway.

Toes curled, hand's clenched, and the strangled gasps of the young woman filled the room.

He focused on her, solely upon her. He did not have the pleasure of splitting his attention between her pleasure and his, lest the madness take him away. The Hatter was deathly afraid that it would come for him at any time and he would hurt her. For now, her essence consumed him and he kept his mad mind on that.

For Alice, as quickly as it began, he withdrew and her body relaxed. She was disappointed and he heard her obviously frustrated moan.

"Why did you stop?"

His untamed eyebrows rose as he looked at her, and she understood that while what he had been doing to her was exquisite, it was not the act itself. Moving from his place beside her, he gently moved her legs, his earlier delicious persuasion having already opened her body to him. To be positioned in this fashion, she gently chewed upon her lower lip as erotic sensations poured over her.

As he lay between her legs, any fear that she felt was entirely gone in her wanting. He propped himself up on his elbows and gave her another kiss, "Are you ready?"

"Yes, I think."

"It may hurt a bit, lass."

She merely nodded, and held his face in her hands. Pressing his forehead to hers, he gently slid into her. Alice did not feel a distinct pain, but instead felt her body shift and adjust to accommodate his size. She sharply inhaled as he filled her completely, stretched her smallness, and penetrated to the very core of that heavy pulsing.

For his part, he could barely breathe. He was inside Alice, his Alice. After all these years of waiting for her to return to him, here she was, lying underneath him in a most wanton way. His manhood was encased in her, she was wet and slick and so tight.

"Tarrant." It was a quiet whisper.

"I'm fine." He was no louder in his reply and he finally opened his eyes.

They just stared at one another for what seemed like the longest time. His weight pressing down on her and her breathing was hot on his cheeks. She felt trapped beneath him, a prisoner welcoming her chains.

Suddenly, he remembered to move.

Her large hazel eyes closed with the first thrust of his hips, the pleasure was so intense. She knew now why no one talked about this in public; it was far too intimate to share with others. He thrust again, slowly, and for what seemed like forever, he languidly pulled away from her before re-sheathing himself in her. Alice now too also understood the meaning of torture.

"Are you alright?" His voice was strained.

"Yes!" The slight hint of anxiety in her voice caught his attention. Desperately trying to hold back the madness, he was afraid to let himself be lost in the moment.

Alice pulled his head down for a passionate kiss, trying to let him know that she wanted him to take full advantage.

The next time, he bucked his hips and buried himself inside her, every inch, to the very hilt of his manhood.

She cried out his name and it echoed around the room. That was all the incentive he needed, his control was lost.

The lovers were captured in their embrace, sensual, binding. In their minds, the lines between the bodies began to blur.

He thrust faster and faster, and she moaned at every one. Pleasure was coming at such an intensity that she could do nothing more than cry out to release some of the pressure. Deep inside her, another pressure was building, but she did not know what to expect.

Her legs wrapped around his waist, trying to pull him in deeper, as far as he could go inside her. Spurred on by her actions, his movements were coming so fast that she could not even count them anymore.

Alice's delicate skin would be bruised the next day, that, he was sure of. He didn't give a damn. She meanwhile, was unashamed now that she wanted this so badly, she wanted him inside her now, always; they completed one another. His frantic thrusts against her tight, small body felt so amazingly good to her virgin form.

Hatter was trying to maintain his consciousness as it was now. Trying not to lose himself at the worst possible time, but his body was begging for release.

Both of them were beginning to feel that delightful throbbing building in them. He thrust harder, wanting to bring himself to climax. Alice suddenly found her body acting in a way that she did not tell it to. Her hips bucked against his, trying to match him thrust for thrust.

God, how she wanted it. She was so close. So close!

"Almost!" Her whisper was high pitched and music to his ears. Her moans, cries, they became whimpers and she begged him to force her body to submit.

Without warning, Alice screamed his name, her nails dug into his back. Whatever this was, this explosion in her body, it had come with a force she could never have expected.

Her muscles tightened around him and Tarrant felt himself pour into her, her body drawing all from him. He clung to the same bed sheets that she had grabbed earlier.

She felt a warmth come into her body and she held him to her. Tarrant waited for the madness to come and take him from her arms but it did not. So long as he was held within her, he would be able stay with his beloved.

The delicious pain of her nails coupled with his own pleasure forced him to collapse on top of her. A light sheen of perspiration was on their skins, which now seemed to be able to sense and feel every twitch and drop of sweat that fell.

Heavy panting breathes filled the air.

"Alice?"

"Tarrant? That was wonderful."

"It was." Lifting his head, he kissed her quite deeply and she ran her fingers through his orange hair.

"Had you ever done that before?"

"No," He laughed, "I was waiting fer you, lass."

She closed her eyes and her fingers trailed lightly on his cheek, "Would you find me terribly selfish if I said I wanted to do that again?"

"Right now?"

Her lovely eyes were half-lidded, still filled with lust, "Yes."

Wet hair clung to her sweat beaded neck; she was so incredibly beautiful to him. Her skin still tasted of jasmine.

Who was he to refuse her?


End file.
